The night is a mistress of life. It is the hardest time to be alive for, those silent hours bring forth Melancholic air and scandalous actions. In its prime it feeds off of the secrets, schemes and lies made within it, knowing it was only a matter o...
"Sometimes the only way to heal our wounds is to make peace with the demons who created them," -Dr. Ishiro Serizawa
Upper East Side, New York July 1st
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Maddison had picked out a gorgeous dress for me to wear for the Gala.
Floor-length and curve-hugging, the dress exposed more skin than expected, with a sultry high split and my back bare down to my lumbar curve, which gave everyone here a peek at my dragon tattoo as well as part of my birthmark.
Even so, I've tucked myself into a corner of the ballroom, refusing to give the dress the attention it deserves.
I watched the rich converse with the hospital's board members and staff, unable to leave the stench of old money and entitlement at the door, not quite ready to interact with them. While hidden, I've ransacked my mind, a futile attempt, searching a poetic way of saying: I want to go home.
Everyone here is trying so far to hold up appearances and live up to what reputation and do what's expected of them, they don't realize it makes this event super boring.
How am I supposed to brownnose these fuckers if they can't even have a decent conversation?
Example A, Maddison is currently drowning in a conversation she's been stuck in since we arrived twenty minutes ago.
The man who is trying to hold her attention is twice her age, unable to tear his eyes away from her cleavage as she likely explains, how she doesn't foresee herself going back to Medical school but it isn't something she's completely written off— even with his wife beside him.
A part of me gets it. The off-white gown she wore tonight, provides the right level of elegance as well as enticement, the fucker cannot even tell she's lying to him.
Shit, I locked eyes with her.
"Save me," She discreetly mouthed to me.
I wholeheartedly ignored the idea of me going over there to join that conversation and mouthed back "Smokin' hot babe." With two thumbs up, I sent her a supportive smile and added, "You're doing great, sweetie."
I didn't wait for a response and walked towards the treat table.
Snacks first, then, fill my stomach with champagne to make this place tolerable.
There has to be a bad joke out there, somewhere, about a doctor being bored.
" Boo bitch," Maddy said from behind me, almost making me choke on the chocolate covered strawberry.
"Seriously." I wiped my lips and scanned my surroundings. "Found your parents yet?"
"Not yet," She snorted, handing me champagne. " But they hung my art up, hoping it'll get me to re-join med school."
