Chapter V

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Five String Serenade - Mazzy Star

No. My day is ruined. Camille knows. She knows who I am! She knows that I'm Bella Rockfield, the missing criminal from Los Santos! I'm doomed! This is the end of it all for me. She can turn me in. Throw me in jail. Then there's Trevor. My poor Trevor. She knows about him, too. This is all wrong. This is all horrible. I don't have the mental stability to be thinking like this. This situation doesn't even feel real. I'm so young. Way too young. Twenty-three, and my life has already been crushed in the hands of someone who I've only known for the slimmest amount of time.

Trevor, I think. We've got to get away.

But that won't be a better solution. My other friends will know I've gone away. Do they know, too? Do they know that I'm a liar, a murderer, a criminal?

Today's my wedding day. My day. And it's ruined. Gone. Nonexistent. Invisible. All because of me. And my stupid lies. My fake identity. I want to know how Camille found out and for how long she knew.

Aimee stayed at my place last night so she could take care of me. I'm only waiting for her to mention something but she hasn't done it yet. She brings me water and massages my shoulders.

"Ugh, I'm sure you feel terrible from last night. Hopefully, your hangover will be better soon," she says. Every time she says something I feel my gut clench. I'm so anxious I want to puke. I'm looking at the bowl Camille brought to me last night just as she exposed me.

"I'm nervous," I admit, sipping the cool glass of water. "For your wedding?" She asks. I nod, lying. Any woman would be nervous on her wedding day, but not me. I have bigger things to worry about.

"Oh, don't be so foolish! You're getting married to the love of your life, Alison!" Her calling me Alison catches me off guard. Maybe she doesn't know. Or she's just playing along, still. I haven't seen Trevor yet. I need to talk to him. About everything. But first I need a shower to cry in.

I can't speak to Trevor or even see him because my prep team has arrived. They want to glamor me. They want to cover my fear with powder and lashes. I'm fine with it. I also wasn't able to cry in my shower. I'm just pending up all of my emotions at this point. I'm going to break soon.

A robe is tied around me. I'm seated in front of a lighted mirror. A brush films over my imperfections. Black lashes are glued over mine. A wand curves up the lashes. There's a pink powder over a big brush that taps my cheekbones. The finishing touches are done with a nude pink lipstick and a highlight on the very tops of my cheeks.

Then they move to my hair. Again, extensions are added to my hair, making my head heavy. They put my hair in a long low braid. It's a bit loose but that was the aesthetic they were going for.

My dress is hanging in the other room, the living room. They put me in it, zipping the back of it up gently. While I should be blushing and gushing over how much beauty I hold, I don't. I fake it all.

"You all made me look so beautiful," I smile, spinning in a big mirror. My prep team looks super happy and pleased. They were nice, encouraging.

Aimee and Juliette were there with me as I got ready. Aimee was emotional, crying her makeup away. Juliette shed a few tears. How I wanted to do that, too. But I just couldn't. I'd start to cry over Camille knowing my biggest secret instead of me getting married.

I'm walking down the aisle all by myself since my father can't be there with me, or my mother. Or anyone. Just me. Aimee offered to do it with me but I didn't want her to. Because I'm not really who I really am. And I feel horrible.

There's a limo that arrives outside of my apartment. I get in and see some of the guests that will be there. My friends, the officiant, and my prep team. I don't know but prep team well but I decided to invite them, too.

all reason aside, i just can't deny, i love the guy | trevor philipsWhere stories live. Discover now