Aurelia
With the grocery bags pressed to my chest, I take my time strolling down the idle street; it's empty, understandable at this time of the day.
The more I think about everything, the more insane it all becomes.
The fact that less than twenty-four hours ago I was putting on the show of my life with a mask on my face and a different name for men who'd paid a fortune just to see me in that light. For my stepbrothers:.
There's a massive difference between writing fantasies about them on paper and a whole other world from everything that happened last night.
I want to hate myself for it.
I want to not replay the memories back in my head as often as I do.
I never want a repeat.
But I can't. No matter how hard I try,.
It feels like a horrible itch that I've only now been able to scratch. The dirtiest, most demented parts of me are coming to life and relishing in the dreams that have now become my reality.
If I had the chance to go back, I know without a doubt that I'd do it all over again.
And it's sick—so sick. But still, it's all the more appealing.
My heart races.
"Oh, sorry," A lady mumbles just as she bumps into me, jostling the items in my hand. She darts off down the street before I can get a word in.
"Hey," I call after her, reaching down for the folded paper discarded on the street. It must have fallen out of her pocket. "You forgot something!" I hold it up, but she's already gone. I can barely spot her in the distance now.
The paper unfolds itself in my grip, and two words written on the sheet draw my attention. Brows furrowed, I open it up completely, realizing it's a letter addressed to me.
The hell?
Hello, Blue Ivy,
I know who you are. But don't panic; I only want to help you.
I have information. Information I think you must know.
The establishment holds secrets—the kind that might one day put your life at risk.
There's much I have to tell you—so much you need to know.
If you want my help or if you want this information, meet me at Belle's.
Dinner is at 10 p.m. tonight. Come alone.
The letter is addressed to Blue Ivy but was intentionally given to me. I read it again and again, my eyes shifting from the paper to the street, where the woman had just disappeared.
Someone knows about my identity.
Someone knows my secret.
I'm frozen in place, with a million thoughts running through my mind. This is really bad.
Could this person be a member of the establishment? They'd have to be; how else would anyone have access to this kind of information?
My eyes drift back to the letter.
What kind of information are they talking about?
I squeeze up the paper, tossing it into the trash as I walk into the driveway of my house.
Belle's dinner. 10pm. I can make it work.
"What took you so long?" Emaine's voice is too close by the time I walk through the front door, her signature glare fixed on my face as I close it behind me.
"Sorry," I tell her. "The market was really packed today.
Her eyes narrow. "What are those?"
She's staring at my ears, at the dangling gems I found pretty on my way.
out of the store. I used the first paycheck I got from the establishment to pay for them.
"They're... earrings." I say.
"I'm not blind; I can see that." She asks, "Where did you get them?" "F-from the store."
"How did you pay for them?"
"I...I-"
"You thief!"
My eyes widen as she approaches me. "I didn't steal them, I swear." "You're a little liar, girl; how did you pay for them then?"
My silence is the only answer she needs. She grabs my face, pinching the tips of the earrings between her fingers and ripping them out. The bags slip from my hands as pain lances up my ears. I let out a cry.
"I've had about enough of your bullshit!" She grabs my arms, dragging me across the house. "You're going to be nice and quiet today; stow away where you cannot cause any trouble!"
"I'm not-"
"Be quiet!" She cuts me off. "Your father's night needs to go perfectly. I see no reason why you need to be present, so you'll be locked away where your filthy presence can't bring any shame or embarrassment tonight."
She opens the door to the basement, shoving me roughly down the brittle steps. I land in a heap at the bottom.
"Wait!" I cry, but it falls on deaf ears. She slams the door shut, the locks sounding from the other side of the closed door.
She locked me in.