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Unidentified #1
The balls of my feet ache from squeezing into these heels all night. I readjust my mask. The feathers cloying at my cheeks are driving me nuts.
“Uncomfortable, aren’t they?” a masculine voice says beside me.
“Most things worth doing are,” I say with a coy smile, turning to face the owner of the voice. He’s dressed in a black suit like most of the men in attendance. Behind his mask, dark eyes rimmed with even darker lashes stare back at me. There’s an unsettling coldness to them. A deep caramel color that should feel warm instead sends chills down my spine.
“What are you drinking?” He nods to the nearly empty glass in my hand.
“Gin and tonic.” I instantly regret answering. I swallow down the uneasy feeling crawling up my throat. “But I actually have to—”
“Ah, there he is,” he cuts me off, waving down a passing server.
He comes directly to us despite being en route to drop off someone else’s order. “Yes, sir?” He nods politely.
“A gin and tonic,” the man says then looks at me with a chilling smile. “Make it extra special for the beautiful lady.” I force a smile in return, and he wraps an uninvited arm around my waist.
I wriggle out of his grip, acting like I am sidestepping to allow someone to pass by in the crowded club. I want to leave but feel trapped. He ordered me a drink. I tell myself the polite thing to do is stay at least until it arrives.
“How has your night been so far?” He leans in a little too close for comfort.
“Great!” My response is overly chipper, but if he notices, he doesn’t seem to care.
Sooner than expected, the server returns with my drink. I find myself sipping it faster than I usually would to get out of this situation. I can hardly focus on the conversation anyway. The warning bells going off in my head are too damn loud.
I should have just made up an excuse and walked away, but I didn’t want to come off rude. Because I drank too quickly, the alcohol has gone straight to my head. Something across the room catches my eye, a flash of light. I glance that way, and turning my head makes the room spin. My hand shoots out to steady myself on the back of a booth and I shake my head, trying to clear this dizzying feeling.
“Someone had a little too much to drink, huh?” He grabs me by the hand and around the waist. “Let’s get you somewhere to sit.”
We begin to walk, and I want to ask him where we are going, but I can’t seem to find the words. My eyelids grow heavier with every step, my legs too. Something white flutters in front of me, and I accidentally step on it. Instinctively, I bend down to pick it up.
As I lift my toes, I realize that my feet don’t hurt anymore.
It feels like I’m moving in slow motion as I stand back up. I turn it over in my hand and realize it’s the handkerchief the man wore in his front pocket. Somehow, I know if I try to fold it neatly, my fingers won’t cooperate. Mindlessly, I tuck it back into his pocket. As I do, I notice a monogram.
Three letters.
JBM.
Chapter 13
Untitled
Stella
It feels like my consciousness is stuck in marsh mud. 1 My mind is sludge as I try to pull myself into wakefulness. It’s the heavy pounding behind my skull that finally rips me out of my dream state. I can feel the bed beneath me, my cheek against a pillow. My locs are free and loose, draping across my face. I rarely ever sleep with them down. I try to recall how I got here, where and when I went to sleep. It’s nothing but a dark void.
I keep my eyes closed, not ready to be thrust into whatever unknown reality I’ll find myself in. Instead, I try to orient myself by cataloging my body. I wiggle my toes—no shoes. My legs feel like they are wrapped in layers of blankets, but the air isn’t cold. Maybe it’s a dress, tangled in my sleep. Besides the splitting headache, no other part of me hurts. Sightlessly, I trail a finger over my arm, feeling something dry and slightly crusty. What the fuck is—
I open my eyes, my vision swimming then quickly focusing. What I’m seeing is undeniable. My skin is covered in dried blood. My stomach drops as I try to process, my heart racing. With shaking and bloodstained hands, I throw the covers off me and scream.
I scream so loud, my own ears rattle, shock and fear pulsating through me.
My lavender dress is covered with so much blood, it looks like a slaughterhouse apron.
What have I done?
1. Play “Voodoo in My Blood” by Massive Attack, Young Fathers
