I didn't know how I would do it, or how I would get away with it, but it was going to happen today. I didn't care if she had some super secret and serious reason for staying with him, I was going to end it. "I'll get some inventory done so you don't have to do it while you're groggy." Molly gave me a grateful nod. "Thanks." Immediately, the voices began brainstorming as I turned the corner and headed to inventory. 'Okay, it's happening! What should we do?' Mary asked, excitedly. 'How about, and hear me out, we kill him?' Erin suggested. I sighed. "We're not going to kill him. I'd be the first to be questioned."
John then began to lay it all out, trying to think of a plan. 'If we're going to break them up, everything has to happen perfectly. We'll need James and Molly to be alone and in the same place. Surely, there is a time of day when that is the case. We just need a location.' Mary thought for a second before giving a sudden answer. 'Wait! What about that street to the armory? It's the only one, and both of them walk down there together every day to load up for missions. They normally walk down there around four p.m.! That could work!' Erin became confused. 'Yeah, but, how are we going to break them up without getting blamed? You can't be seen at all or else Molly will think that you set it up.'
I thought for a moment and walked right past the inventory center. I would do it later. I had more important things to work on. "We're just going to have to have someone else do it for us," I said with a smirk. After asking around for a few minutes, I ended up in one of the old libraries that the survivors used for storage. I walked around the dusty bookshelves, looking to execute the first step of my plan. Lots of papers and books were scattered on the floors, and the furniture was either out of place or used to hold boxes of supplies. When I neared the back of the library, I stopped by the sound of whimpering. I followed it with suspicion until I opened the door to the back office. I was surprised to find who I was looking for inside.
Vanessa was sitting in a chair and sobbing into her arms that were resting on the desk in front of her. I had expected to find her, but I didn't expect her to be crying. I awkwardly walked into the room and closed the door behind me. She didn't react to the sound and continued to cry obnoxiously. "Hey... What's the matter, tiger?" It was the only thing I could think to say, but I still made myself cringe. I decided to sit in one of the other chairs that was next to her, and she finally pulled her head out of her arms. Makeup was smeared down her face and she didn't look directly at me as she squealed. "No one likes me!"
Her head fell back into her arms as she continued to sob, and I forced the words that wanted to agree with her back down my throat. "That's not true..." I said as convincingly as I could. She raised her head again and denied my comfort. "Yes, it is! Here I am, alone in a library where James said he would meet me. He said he would remember this time. And I was an idiot who believed him! Just as I believed him when he said he was going to break up with his girlfriend! And when he said he cared about me! No one wants to be friends with me, and no guy has ever seen me for more than my body! What is wrong with me?!"
I sighed. "Do you really want to know?" She turned to me, curious about what I was getting at. "Yes," she said, nervously. I held nothing back as I told her. "You're fake. Everything about you seems like it isn't real. Your voice, your personality, the way you act, the way you look. Seriously, it feels like you think you're still in high school. You are a fully grown woman. And let me tell you, there is nothing a man hates more than a woman who doesn't respect herself. That's why people like you get walked on. So if you want to be acknowledged for being something other than a mannequin, I'd suggest being yourself for once."
More tears fell down her face and her lip trembled. "I don't know how... My whole life, my mother trained me to be someone else." It was then I began to feel bad for her. I had a controlling mother too. She constantly tried turning me into someone I wasn't. Her idea of what I should be was an outstanding citizen who never touched drugs, was straight, wanted kids, went to church, and all the things I despised. I remember coming to her as a middle-schooler thinking he was bi and got punished for it. The only difference between me and Vanessa was that she let herself be brainwashed for the approval of her mother.
I was lucky I didn't give a fuck what my parents thought of me. After I moved out, I took a picture of myself making out with a dude and posted it on Facebook where I knew my mom would see it. She unfriended me after that and I had never felt so free in my life. As weird as it was, I wanted Vanessa to experience that feeling now that I knew what she had gone through. "You know... We're not so different. As crazy as it sounds. I know all about rebelling from your parents. I can help you get to know yourself if you want." She stopped crying and nodded. "I would like that." For the first time, I heard her voice. Her real voice. And it wasn't annoying.
I smiled a little and took some tissues from the desk to hand to her. "You can start by scrubbing your face clean of all that foundation. I have nothing against makeup, I wear it myself sometimes, but you should use it to enhance rather than to cover up." She began wiping her face and I eyed those ridiculous hoop earrings. "Those hoops also look painful. You don't have to keep wearing those." She looked up at me with worry. "But, they're trendy-" I immediately cut her off. "Don't you dare say that ever again. Wear what YOU like. Not what everybody else likes. Got it?!" She nodded. After her makeup and earrings were off, she looked at her clothes and began adjusting them. She untied the knot at the bottom of her dress shirt and tucked it into her skirt. She then buttoned it up a little more so her bra wasn't showing.
I was surprised how she was already starting to look pretty. It baffled me how a few changes could do that. "What are you doing?" I asked. She took off all of her gold bracelets and seemed annoyed as she did. "I'm sick of being an object. James and I are so done. The next guy that comes along, I'm going to attract with my mind. And it's not going to be because I look easy." Now that I had made some progress, I began the next step of my plan. "I actually have the perfect guy for you."