"Gosh, any man would kill to have you, Elora!" Bree exclaimed as she scrutinized me from head to toe. She placed her makeup case on the table and walked towards the human-sized mirror. Her room was all pink, from the ceiling, walls, floors, and even personal possessions. Led pink lights were placed at the corners and edges of the ceiling, making the whole room vivacious.
I remained seated on the stall chair, antagonistically staring at my colored fingernails. I grimaced when the tight structure of the dress started to constrict me. The few powders applied to my face started to derail every inch of my skin.
"Aren't you going to look at yourself?" I fortuitously gaze on Bree. She stood fixedly at the corner, folding her arms with one eyebrow arched above.
"Fine."
Feeling the adrenaline, I gingerly walked towards the mirror. My steps were heavy and deliberate, as I was not accustomed to wearing high heels. Biting my lower lip, my eyes were stationed at the mirror to scrutinize myself. With my aloft eyebrows and my eyelids being lifted, I knew that the girl in the reflection of the mirror looking straight at me was not a figment of my illusion.
I was wearing a white fitted dress that reached near my thighs, unveiling my slender legs. Its off-shoulder straps flaunted my chest and shoulders, making my collar bone more prominent. My dark and wavy hair was twisted into a ponytail with strands of hair framing my face, and my lips were obscured by rose pink pastel.
"Finally, from rag-looking to a fair one." I rolled my eyes. This makeover made me diversely feminine, completely different from my usual style.
"Tsk, I looked more like a slut who was custom-made for selling souls."
"Geez, stop overreacting. It's just a girl's fashion."
I helplessly sighed. However, I abruptly smiled and failed to conceal it. Just thinking about what Damien's reaction would be when he saw me wearing a dress made me almost feel like I was on cloud nine.
"What? You're head over heels for him now, aren't you?" My eyes widened, and I jerked my head to look at Bree, for I knew who she was referring to. She was grinning from ear to ear with her arms crossed. As the adopted daughter of a widowed woman, Greta Hadleigh, I was raised for twenty years by her and her daughter, Bree. The three of us became gradually close, hence leading us to see through each other's thoughts, moods, and spirits.
"Of course not!" I hastily repudiated. Actually, I was never sure of my feelings for Damien. We have grown up together since we were young, thus making us inseparable. I don't want our friendship to be ruined by these eclectic sentiments that I have been feeling towards him. Besides, he has a girlfriend, and I don't want to be a relationship wrecker.
"You like him!"
"Shut up."
I stormed out of her room. I rolled my eyes when I heard Bree's sardonic laugh. With my deliberate steps, I unrelentingly gripped the stringer when I felt my legs shuddering as I walked down the staircase. Aunt Greta was confounded as soon as she saw me.
"What's with the sudden change of style?" A satisfactory smile beamed from her lips. She couldn't hide the intoxication on her frail yet divine-looking face. She was in her fifties, but her ingenious facial features were still visible.
"Oh, auntie, today is just an exception."
She raised her eyebrows teasingly. "You should learn to disengage from pretension, young lady."
I frowned. What? She laughed when she saw my bewilderment. I split my mouth open, attempting to ask, but she shook her head, insinuating that I shouldn't mind it.
"Aren't you coming, auntie?" I asked when we reached the door. Bree wanted to come, but for some reason, she couldn't. It's as if she has some patented affairs that have to be taken care of, and I'm totally clueless about that. She told me that she had talked to Damien regarding her matters. Strangely, he didn't complain. She and Damien were quite close, and not attending his party would be a big deal for him, right?
She flashed an apologetic smile and shook her head. I sighed and nodded in response. I couldn't blame her. A grand party seems incongruous for an old lady like her, as she was not accustomed to drinking and partying. I enveloped her in a hug before walking out of the house.
It was murky outside. Serenity enveloped the street. The full moon overhead glowed like porcelain across the night sky as it was wreathed by numerous stars flickering in spirals. The moonlight cast through me, yielding my silhouette as I walked on the pathway leading to the gates. Trees on the edges that were against the breeze of winds were unwittingly dancing as their branches coated with leaves flittered through the air. I slightly shuddered when I felt the cold wind run along my exposed skin.
I stood near the fence of our house as I waited for the driver that was instructed by Damien to pick me up. After waiting for almost thirty minutes, I grabbed my phone from my pouch and dialed Damien's number. But a frown instantly proclaimed itself through my complexion when I realized that there was no reception. I started walking on the sidewalk in an attempt to get a signal while holding my phone, which was situated against my ear.
"Come on." I muttered, but I can't even hear the ringing that indicates that I reached the other line. I was about to put the phone back in my pouch when I heard an indistinct sound of footsteps approaching me.
With my breathing uneven, I persisted in remaining calm. I was hinting at the person who was following me. I continued walking, slightly raising my phone sideways and pretending to catch a signal. And through the reflection, I saw a person wearing a red cloak. Jeopardy was lurking under the cloak's hood, which was wreathed in dusk. Its tenebrous patina was entrancing into the depths of my ambience, bequeathing a spine-chilling sentiment.
My eyes widened when its leisure steps turned frantic. It came rushing toward me. I just stood motionless in shock. I was pulled back to reality when I felt my body had colluded with the street lamp. I kept my mouth closed, my teeth gritting as I endured the searing pain.
With her hand gripping hard on my neck, I knew there was no escape. With the light coming from the street lamp overhead, I was able to see half of her face. The latter has a pointed nose, white skin, and stained red lips. It's a woman.
"Name what you want." I tried to cloak the dread that was towering over me. I can't let my vulnerability be visible to her senses. I have to refrain from the agitation and affirm my unperturbed sentiment to avoid affliction.
The woman chuckled. Her alluring laugh revealed her white teeth, along with two fangs that seemed to be longing for flesh and blood. I was anticipating to see a flicker of ruby-like light from her eyes, but eccentrically, it didn't.
"Vengeance."
I was startled by her reply. My mouth automatically went dry, and I felt like a lump had formed in my throat. A shiver ran up my spine. Trepidation towered over me, trapping me in a quiver.
A formidable grin made its way to her lips as she leaned toward me. "But now's not the time. Brace yourself for the bloodbath and never go against my will, or you'll be put into torment that will make you wish you were dead." Her voice was like a cold gust of wind, leaving my hair standing up from the chilling words she aforementioned.
With that, she let go of her grip on me. My legs frantically went limp, so I quickly held on to the pole of the street lamp. Gasping for air, I jerked my head to look at my back, only to see the woman in a red cloak walking straight along the street's dim sidewalk until her receding figure disappeared through the darkness.
When I got my gaze back, I immediately closed my eyes when I saw a bright light, casting through my face. Then, I heard loud footsteps approaching me until a person went standing at me, blocking the light. I slowly opened my eyes and saw a man in his thirties.
"Why are you here, ma'am?" I went looking for you." There's a note of solicitude in his voice. I gasped for air and breathed heavily.
I forced a smile. "I'm fine. Let's go." Feeling relived, I walked towards the car. I can tell that the driver wanted to say something more but swallowed it when I got into the back seat. The driver reluctantly went into the driver's seat and decided not to ask more details when he saw my stern look.
We drove off, and we were now on our way to the Hyattsville Hotel, where the party was being held. I just kept my gaze fixed on the scenery outside the window beside me. Her words thrust into my reflexes, leaving a hole containing question marks.
After a few minutes of driving, we have arrived at the front of the Hyattsville Hotel. I glanced outside through the window and roamed around the surroundings.
Guests were chit-chatting, laughing, and enjoying their glasses of wine while wearing their high-end tuxes and elegant dresses. Their expensive earrings, necklaces, and watches exude illustrious halos as they twirl around and hang loosely. The music from the banquet hall also fueled the stimulation of the liveliness of the ambience throughout the hotel.
I immediately flushed, as I knew that I didn't belong with these people. They are incredibly rich, and their demeanors towards one another are filled with litheness and courtesy. I can't help but think that I'm just a try-hard, decent peasant who attends a party to seduce and ride on men's coattails.
I slightly winced when the car door suddenly opened, and it popped out the driver, who was smiling at me, marked by chivalry. He motioned with his hands, indicating that I should get out of the car. In this moment, the thing that happened earlier had spit out of my head when I attracted everyone's attention. All their gazes turned to me as the car door opened.
I can feel my heart racing. I'm not used to associating with my acquaintances, let alone strangers. I took a deep breath before stepping foot on the red carpet that led to the entrance leading to the banquet hall. Holding my breath, I got out of the car. I drudge myself into fixing my gaze directly at the entrance, grasping my pouch, and forcing myself not to settle my gaze from the criticizing stares as I walk on the red carpet.
I only let out a sigh of relief when I reached the entrance. There were two muscular men on each side of the door—bodyguards, I assumed. The banquet hall was on the first floor of the hotel, with a gigantic and eminent chandelier in the center of the ceiling, accompanied by recessed lighting wreathing it. The numerous tables and chairs were placed fixedly, with guests scattering around them. Those emplaced wine glasses on the table as well as the utensils and napkins were remained untouched, I wonder why.
"Hey there, Elora." I was startled when that familiar face came by just as I entered the banquet hall. I glanced to my right and saw Damien walking towards me with a look of contentment plastered on his exquisite face.
"Happy Birthday, Damien." I said this as I handed him a small box that I kept inside my pouch. I couldn't help but smile when I saw his complexion. He's wearing a white tux with a black bow tie at the top. His chestnut-colored hair was combed sideways. He looked sophisticated and noble.
His eyes settled on my outfit, and he smirked. "Whoa. I didn't expect you to be this stunning." Astonishment made way for itself to be placarded on his handsome face.
I rolled my eyes teasingly. "Drop the act. It's just so-so."
"Tsh, let me escort you tonight, beautiful." He bestowed his arms, giving way for me to adhere to them.
I raised my eyebrow. He frowned.
"What?"
"There are a lot of gossipers around waiting for anomalous news to be disclosed to others, yet here you are, offering me your arm." There's a note of sarcasm coming from my vexatious mouth. I loathe people who are gossipers and talk behind my back. Things were not the same as they were back then. Just one wrong move or mishap, and everyone around you will have false judgments and criticism.
"As if they have the guts."
"But what about Amelia?" "I'm sure she'll be pissed off."
"Nah. Come on, today is my day. Take my hand, or never in a lifetime?"
"Fine."
I mentally rolled my eyes when I heard him chuckle. We started walking among the guests, whose gazes were on us. I just kept my head lowered as I gripped hard on his arm. Feeling his biceps, I bit my lower lip. I just smiled and nodded as he introduced me to some guests, but it was cut off by Amelia, who said that the party was about to start.
We all got into our tables and chairs, and I was warmly welcomed by the Carter's, Damien's family through embracing and exchanging courteous words. Soon, Damien got a call to walk on stage for his speech. Holding a mic, which was situated near his lip, he faced all the guests with a vast smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to express my gratitude for attending this very significant event this evening. It's a pleasure for me to have you all here as my guests on my 21st birthday. To my parents, friends, relatives, and girlfriend, who was always there for me in good and bad times, you've all played a good role in my life. All your love and care have bestowed a remarkable degree on me. You all left me with many memories that I could treasure for a lifetime. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for all of you. Now, let's all enjoy this night and take this toast to express my gratitude to all of you. Cheers everyone!" He exclaimed and raised mid-air the glass on his hand that was filled with wine that had been given earlier by the server. We raised our glasses also, and when it was time to drink the wine, I paused.
Looking at the red wine in the glass, I stopped my breath for a moment to prevent its stink from catenating my nose.
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" I looked up and saw Aunt Nathalie, Damien's mom. She's a divine and sophisticated woman with shoulder-length hair.
I wanted to say that I don't drink but promptly refrained. It'll be too rude for me to exorcise this drink as a toast. So instead of complaining, I just flashed a smile and drank the wine in my glass. The urge to puke overwhelmed me as the bewailing liquor lingered in my throat.
Closing my eyes, I deposed the glass onto the table with my hand gripping hard on it. A lugubrious feeling squelched from my stomach as if being turned upside down. My alcohol tolerance is very low, thereby leading me to vomit.
When my gaze settled on the people seated at our table, I saw them smiling. I managed to smile despite the quaint sentiment that was urging me to erupt. A few minutes had passed, and my situation got worse. Damien asked me to dance, but I refused, even though I wanted to. So, I stood up and politely excused myself. They nodded, and I left.
"Going home already?" As I walked among the numerous guests, I heard Damien speak from behind.
I turned to look at him and shook my head. "I'm just heading to the comfort room." I forced a smile, and then continued walking without waiting for his response. I can't let him know about this weird feeling that keeps bludgeoning me because I know he'll be worried.
I walked down the corridor with my brain fogging from dizziness. It was quiet, almost eerie. The lanterns that hang against the wall and the recessed lighting beneath the ceiling were the only sources of light that lit the dim passageway. My feet were now unstable. Unfaltering my steps, I kept my hand against the wall to prevent myself from receding as I scoured the comfort room. Perhaps this is the penetrating effect of alcohol, since I'm not a drinker. The puissant essence of the liquor makes people twirl and rattle along with their sprinkling sweats and bestows their belligerence.
Suddenly, I was taken aback. It took me a moment before acquiring the fruition.
Where's the comfort room?
I closed my eyes irritatingly because of my stupidity. I can barely walk or see. My chest goes up and down due to my frantic gasping. Just then, I heard distinct sounds as if footsteps were approaching me.
I looked up only to see a tall and gauzy figure walking towards me. He has dark, messy hair, with a few strands falling beneath his forehead. He looked familiar. I automatically blinked when he suddenly disappeared into thin air. And the next thing I knew—he was now behind me, brushing his breath against my bare neck.
"Sobering up in this dim hallway? Tsk, how brutish. What a waste for such a pretty face." came by his familiar smooth, silken and deep voice that was competently capable of making my fervor go haywire. A sudden urge of enticement towered over me.
I dashed and locked his lips with mine. That was the last thing I knew before everything went black.