“None of your business,” Will told him. And then to me, “Winter, show Alex to your room. She’s going to help you get ready.”
I then heard footfalls on the stairs, getting closer.
Ready? I was capable of getting dressed on my own.
“Why do you have your mask?” I heard Damon ask Will, I would assume.
The way he said ‘your mask’ sounded like Damon had one, too. All the horsemen did, I’d heard.
“Fucker, no one’s talking to you,” Will barked back.
I snorted, and I could feel Damon fume next to me.
Will was fun. I think I liked him.
Damon didn’t have a chance to question me, though, because a cool, slender hand took my arm, and I led Alex down the hall to my bedroom, a little more excited for the night out than I was a moment ago.
I wanted a fun outfit, a drink, and some chills and thrills.
As long as none of them came from Damon Torrance.
It wasn’t just any night on the Coldfield calendar of events. It was 18 & Over Night, which meant no minors allowed, hard liquor and cocktails served, and clothing didn’t have to leave much to the imagination. Costumes encouraged.
We walked through the entrance, brandishing our All Access wristbands, and I pulled my skirt taut as much as I could, feeling a little shy. Fun outfit, indeed. Alex was interesting, and to think she got nearly everything I was wearing from my own closet.
After we’d disappeared into my bedroom, she got busy, making short work of my hair and makeup and doing my face up like some clown. Or a sexy clown, as she’d said. She painted some designs on my
forehead with tear drops under my eyes and finished it off with red paint on the tip of my nose and some black lipstick outlined with white around my lips.
While I’d been asleep, I’d received a voice text from my mother, letting me know she and Ari were okay and that I was going to be fine.
No calls. No further information.
They were okay, and I was going to be fine.
Cryptic and cruel, and I didn’t understand it.
I’d tried calling both of them, but they didn’t answer, and I wasn’t sure I expected them to. What would they say, after all?
What had Damon told my mother?
Maybe he was a smooth talker and made her assurances? Maybe the financial arrangement was too good to pass up. Maybe she was just tired of fighting.
Just a little turn of the screw…
His taunt echoed in my mind again, and whatever he was planning wasn’t something by force like I’d thought. He was trying to wind his way into my head.
Alex teased and fluffed my hair, the heaven I was in with all the grooming and being touched starting to relax me, but then she went to my closet, dug out some things, and with my permission, began ripping and cutting to make me a costume.
I wore my fluffy, black miniskirt with tulle layered underneath, a strappy, leather bra she’d had with her, and the tutu torn off one of my ballet costumes from when I was little wrapped around my neck in a big collar. She dressed up my wrists with whatever I had in my armoire and sprayed some body glitter on my stomach, legs, and arms.
She tried to put heels on me but quickly realized that would be a mistake—as I’d told her it would be—and I slipped into my black Chucks instead.
But before we left the room, she remembered one last thing.
Fangs.
Sharp, smooth, and acrylic, she took out her extra set, mixed up the plaster, filled the grooves inside the two fangs, and asked me if I wanted them on my canines or incisors.