from me to you. → kth

one

MY LIFE IS SOMETHING I sometimes, most times, wish I didn't have to return to. 

A memory, perhaps one of the only good ones I have, plagues me. I'm in a surreal place of peace, away from the discrepancies of everything else. I'm walking slowly in a field of perfected grass blades, neither tall nor short. 

My head was air-filled, up in the clouds.  I find a soft patch and lay there, eyes shut and appreciative. Lavender fills my lungs, higher and higher-

It burns my facial skin.

That's not the roughness of a lavender plant. Rather, Mark's palm against my face as he holds my chin in his fingertips, inspecting me like I'm a jewel he wishes to authenticate. 

"You can't even put in the extra effort of a little makeup? What, you want to whole world to give you attention?" He spits, vexed. "Always seeking attention."


I look away. I know better than to look Mark in the eye when he's angry. I've seen what happens to those who do.

They never leave in one piece.

"I don't see why this should be so hard for you, Clarity. It's not that hard to stand there, shut up and be pretty. While you're nothing near the lavish cufflinks that grace my shirtsleeves, you certainly shouldn't use that as an excuse to slack off."

I sigh, already used to this routine, and do as he asks. I'm better off quiet, just as he says. I walk over to my designated side of the room, taking a seat at the vanity. 

Staring back at me is the husk of who I used to be, if I ever was anything, that is. Mark took me in and made me pretty.

He walks from behind just as I finish applying the fragranced dusting powder, and rests a heavy arm on my shoulder, pulling me towards him to which my head is a few inches away from his upper thighs.

"Now you look pretty, just like you're supposed to." His hands trace my clavicles, inching toward my neck before they wrap around its circumference. "Now, make me proud out there and be a good girl in front of my friends." 

Rather than the terrifying, suffocating discomfort I usually feel when he pulls this move, my mind is flashed with images of my visionary dream the night before. I can smell his scent around me, almost feeling the tenderness of his touch rather than Mark's intent to show me that when I underperform there are always consequences.

I feel his tightening grip faltering slowly. He can feel the lack of my struggle and I can tell it irritates him. Yet, he says nothing, adjusting his shirt and combing back his hair once more before yanking me up so we can leave.

I brush back the presence of a few stupid tears and brace myself. 

All I can hope for, is a miracle.

***

Antonio Santini's Golden Palace restaurant is one notorious for having even the most royal of royals grovel for another momentary experience of their tastes.

I feel that is some form of an exaggeration, but then again, so are most things.

For example, the simple black slip dress that exaggerates the presence of something worth viewing underneath it. Its material is thin, and the gust of wind the drives up the hem causes the formation of coarse goosebumps along the hollows of my collarbones.

Mark walks me in, one hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks. I take a deep breath and form a small, chaste smile for each person we shake hands with and provide faux hugs.

I take a seat and soon enough, Mina joins me. While her presence isn't always favored, it's better than facing the predatory eyes of my husband's subordinates alone.

She has a larger-than-life personality- a strong and fierce woman. Her slender eyes are dark, but gaze and bore deep holes in those fashioned to engage with them. In fact, everything about her is sleek and tucked. From her dark, melodious hair tucked behind her ears to the length of her legs that seem to knot themselves to infinity.

"How are you holding up?" She asks, in that low hum of a coveted New York-an accent. "Oh and happy twenty-first by the way. Jeez, I'm a fossil compared to you, baby!"


I manage to crank out a small smile. Who could resist such charm?

Just as I'm about to form a response, everyone including myself and Mina turn toward the commotion coming from the kitchen. No one freaks out until the bloodied face of a young server paints the glass window.

"Quick! Let's go to the bathroom." She grabs me by the arm before I can protest, dragging me to the very back of the room on the other side. 

I can hear Mark yelling after me, but before I can respond, I have only a single glimpse of a bullet firing through his head.

Waves of shock ripple through me, tearing my heart apart. Mina holds me by the shoulders, consoling me as I try to find a comfortable stall to hide in while I wipe my teary eyes.

"Why are you crying, Clarity? Doesn't this mean you're finally free of him?"


I shake my head slowly, feeling the warmth flooding from between my legs. A drop of blood hits the tiled floor and it takes one look at the ground and me before her hands cup her mouth and nose in shock.

Tears fill her eyes too. "No." She says, shaking her head. 

All I can do is nod while she rocks me, hands in my hair.

My only hope is gone.

f r o m    m e    t o    y o u

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