Bloody hands

7- Lucky Strike

The (h/c) haired maiden stood anxiously in one of the large and luxurious elevator the agency offered. It was large, luminous and the floor covered with a thick and dark crimson carpet. The air was filled with a background music you'd typically picture in an elevator, nothing too bold or out of the ordinary. However the walls were hidden by numerous photos of women posing in extravagant outfits, pausing and looking towards the camera, seeming to enjoy themselves. 

The maiden knew the truth behind these pictures, behind these seemingly perfect females, and it was not pretty. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as memories of a past friendship flooded her mind. 

Her name was Lisa. (Y/n) met her during a shooting for Richards & Sally, an upcoming fashion brand. The two teenage females quickly became good friends, soon best friends, the shoots became less boring, fun even when Lisa was here. They were glad, so glad they met each other. However there was one thing (Y/n) hadn't seen coming. Lisa had always been a soft and shy person, sensible to peer pressure and criticism. (Y/n) hadn't notice the numerous remarks her blond haired friend had received when she gained a bit of weigh after the death of her father, she didn't notice when the girl's manager took her apart to give her advices on how to reach perfection. 

And everything happened so fast, too fast for both of them to process that Lisa was slowly but surely killing herself. She started to exercise every day, stopped eating, stopped going out, stopped laughing, stopped smiling. She wasn't herself anymore, just an empty shell of who she once was. And it is only when her translucent skin made her fragile bones apparent that she was taken to an hospital. (Y/n) had been reassured that her friend would be alright, that she'll be safe and that she'll receive the best treatment the medics could provide. However Lisa's desire for perfection proved to be stronger, the haunting voice in her brain was too loud to be quietened. 

She died. After one year of hospitalisation and self destruction. Her desire for perfection killed her, the fashion industry killed her. This horrible modelling industry stole the (h/c) haired girl's friend from her and from the world.

Yes, (Y/n) knew the truth and it wasn't pretty. However even if she despised modelling for various reasons she didn't have the heart to stop. Her mother counted on her to achieve the dream she couldn't live when she was a teenager. She had to do it for her mother. 

The doors of the elevator slid open, stirring the girl out of her thoughts as she jolted back to the present time, sharply intaking a breath of air before stepping out of the lift with fiddling fingers. Her gaze travelled around the rectangular room. Even thought the maiden had no pleasure in being here, she had to admit this was probably the loveliest fashion studio she had ever stepped in. 

The walls were coloured in a creamy white and decorated with photos, high windows reached the ceiling and allowed the sunlight inside, plants hang from the ceiling and added a warmth to the room, then the traditional working desks lined the walls as well as a designing table in the centre of the room and some mannequins.

However what caught the female's attention was the far corner of the room behind a glass wall dividers. From where she was the maiden could see a table with chairs, a fridge and various cooking supplies, something she had never seen in a fashion studio. She tilted her head to the side curiously. However the approaching man in his thirties stirred her out of her reverie.

He had kind and confident facial features with gleaming green eyes and smooth black hair. However what the girl would remember surely was his unique and creative outfit, which she adored. He wore a purple coloured plaid  suite on top of a dark blue shirt dress and a pink tie. Although his hoes were a basic black, his socks were assorted to his tie. Then he completed his look with a pendant earring on his right ear.