The ORION Project | ✔

chapter 15

Buckle up, this shit storm of a chapter is 4000 words long.

The girl in the mirror looked like a hurricane, and nothing like the girl she was inside, narrowed brown eyes painted to look like a predator's, and nude painted lips slanted at one corner in a something that was almost a sneer and a half mocking smile. The figure hugging dress was unlike anything she had ever worn, a black gown with a slit so high that it showed off one shapely leg toned from years of Tennis.

Grace Ilori was a hurricane, at least on the outside.

On the inside, she was a blubbering mess, shaking to the bones and partly afraid that she was being deceived by her eyes. Amina had been right about one thing, clothes were armours because when Grace took one more look at herself, she felt like power, she felt untouchable.

"Well?" Amina asked, looking up from her phone and meeting Grace's gaze in the standing mirror.

The ORION Project never seemed to stop surprising her with all its cool toys, the domed building looked like a multi billionaire industry from the outside, the way time seemed to stop inside it reminded her of an otherworldly place, she could have never guessed that the headquarters of The ORION Project had a boutique inside it that could rival even the most expensive ones in Lekki.

"This isn't me." Grace blurted out, spinning on her heels to face Amina with fury in her eyes. Was ORION trying to turn her into something she wasn't? The girl she was didn't dress in fancy apparels and dine with the wealthy.

"This is you now, and for heaven's sake — or how do you Christians say it — can you not turn every single thing into a fight?" Amina scoffed. "The dress looks great on you and it suits our purpose, so please calm down."

"It's just . . ." Grace sighed, tugging at the diamond earrings, she flinched at the unconscious action, as if touching them might damage the jewels. She had always been sure of who she was, Grace the girl who wanted more than a broken family, Grace who someday wanted to participate in the Olympics. She wasn't this rich girl they were molding her into, she was uncomfortable with it and it made her suspicious, things didn't come for free in life and suddenly a cult of rich kids wanting her at all costs to join them for no absolute reason was the strangest thing.

She felt that for every affluence she saw, she was going to be paying for it in blood.

"This isn't me," She repeated. "I don't dress up all fancy for a party —"

Amina cut her off.

"It is a mission, we aren't just going there to party."

A mission we know nothing about except for the fact that it is important, Grace thought bitterly. "Party," She affirmed.

Amina did not interrupt again, only settling back on the love seat in the spacious changing room and looking at Grace with all attention.

"I don't do this, I'm comfortable with my life, and poor clothes and whatever — this is too tasking, I'm not like you or any of you. I feel like all this shit is some stupid prank, I feel like I'm an imposter." She finished.

Amina leaned forward, resting her chin on her raised palms.

"Then think of it this way, this is all a play or a movie," The Muslim girl said, then pointed to herself and back at Grace. "We are actors and the world is our stage."

Grace rolled her eyes. "Don't quote Shakespeare to me."

"ORION wants you because maybe we saw that there was something about you. We don't recruit useless people, there is a reason you are here." Amina said. "And if I were you, I'd whine less, feel less sorry for myself."