Demetria's P.O.V.:
I hate it here. I've been standing in this stall for what feels like days, putting on and removing clothing non-stop. "Not that hard, he said," I mumble to myself, mocking Jason's words from earlier. I'm currently standing here in this stall in a sports bra and underwear, impatiently waiting for the ladies to come back.
"Okay," random lady #1 says, walking into the stall. "We found the perfect one for you."
"Tch. You said that the last one hundred times."
"P-Pardon?" she asks.
"Nothing," I answer with a straining smile. I swear, my face muscles are going to tear themselves apart if this continues. "So, the perfect one, you say."
"Yup! Bring it in, ladies!"
The other two ladies walk into the stall, with a sleeveless and shoulderless red dress and black, short heels.
"What the hell is that?" I whisper to myself.
"Now come on, dear," random lady #2 with the dress says. "Let's get you changed." She hands me the dress eagerly with a smile.
I slowly take it, staring at the contents of the dress. It's just a soft, plain red dress with a silver belt along the waistline. I sigh, taking the dress, unzipping it, and placing it over my head. Sticking my head through the whole, I slip my hands through their respective holes. I begin to adjust the dress on my body as the ladies behind me zips it up. I look at myself in the mirror, taken aback by the reflection. The top of the dress hugs my body as the bottom portion, below the belt, lays loose. The front length stops right above my knees as the back stops, a few inches from the ground.
"And here are the heels," lady #3 says, handing me the shoes.
I slide the heels on, surprised as to how they were able to find something that fits me, considering the fact that I had never told them. The black heels reveal my toes, the fabric crisscrossing in a pattern over my skin. I take a look at myself one last time, still finding the scene in front of me weird. My whole life, I had stuck to wearing my training attire or the armor/uniform worn in the compounds. Me, in a dress, is something that I never thought that I would see. It's too foreign.
"Aww, you look adorable!" they squeal.
"Mr. Wayne," random girl #1 says, peeking her head out of the stall. "This is something that you'll like.
"Tch. That's what you've said for the other thousands of dresses," I hear Damian growl.
"Damian, be nice," Dick says.
"You can speak Arabic?"
"We all can, Demon Spawn," Jason says.
"Tch."
"Here she comes!" they announce outside of the stall.
I turn away from the mirror and make my way towards the curtain, I peek my head out, make eye contact with Father, and push the rest of the curtain away. I walk out of the stall and stand in front of them awkwardly. "So?"
The boys stare at me intently, they're gazes wander from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, and back up. They keep a blank face on as they stare at me.
"What do you think?" Father asks me.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you like it?"
"I mean, it's okay," I answer, picking up the sides of the dress. "I don't usually wear dresses, so it kind of looks weird on me."
"I agree," Damian says. "But I think it looks rather nice."
YOU ARE READING
The Normal Life Of The Other Demon
Random{BOOK 2 in The Demon Twins Series} It's been three long weeks since the incident. No one is coping well with her condition. But what happens when she suddenly wakes up? Will she be able to bring the family back together? How will she fit in into th...
