NYCTOPHILIA

chapter eight • fantasy

"Momma, what does this do?" The sweet voice of a four year old questioned, tone exploiting pure innocence as she held out the black tube in her feeble palm that was to be found on her mother's vanity.

"That makes your lashes darker and longer, something mommy uses everyday to make herself look pretty. But you don't need that baby, your lashes are already beautiful" the older female responded, the smooth voice almost too comforting and beyond craved for as she looked down with a coy smile towards the newly developed toddler.

The next item the younger girls eyes were automatically drawn to was a similar tube, only shorter in length and rather wider in width. Gold plated and reflecting the rays of light from the lamp and onto the brunettes face as she scanned the makeup items in complete awe.

"What about this one?" Her hand raised the cylinder towards her mother's vision from where she had perched herself on her lap, eager to gain more knowledge so it could be utilised when she was old enough to use the cosmetics.

"That is lipstick, you use it on your lips to add a pretty colour although this one is quite neutral. Bright colours don't suit me angel" her smile extended down to the child's desirous gaze she held on the lipstick tube, recognising the longing look her bold green eyes were portraying. "Want to try it on? So you can look like mommy?"

The toddlers eyes lit up with unfiltered elation, nodding vigorously up towards her mother with a broad exhilarated grin. Something that made the lady's heart melt and stomach burn in complete fulfilment and the most gracious love, holding out the stick of lipstick and painting it carefully against the child's pouted lips.

If there was one thing she knew for sure, was that once this little one grew up she'd be a handful and a half- already her forward attitude and expressionate actions were enough to convey her bright personality that would only expand to get even brighter and bolder. Most days realising that her child was an exact embodiment of herself.

Laughter tainted the air once her artwork was done, turning the toddlers face towards the mirror so she could get an in-depth look of her inevitable beauty with the chosen lipstick accentuating her pouted lips. As she watched their reflections carefully over the girls shoulder, she knew this would be a moment that would be surely held sacred in the memory box for them both, the child's face melting into authentic joy as her own laughter plummeted around the atmosphere.

And then she blinked, eyes opening and adjusting to the new lighting of the scenery. Every item matching on the exact same vanity that still sat proudly in the shared room, the identical lip colour painting Scarlets lips for tonight's event she was attending. But there was one thing missing that repeatedly shattered her heart into a million shards of broken glass, her mother.

Scarlet stood staring numbly into the mirror, only the ghost of her mother's presence in that cherishable memory for company. As well as the dust of cocaine that lined the desk top in reminder of the hefty amount of intoxicant that had been inhaled on Rafe's orders to prepare for the party.

There was one thing that Scarlet could agree with her mother on, they both didn't suit bright colours- maybe it was because the boldness clashed with their psyche, distracting ones eye away from their true character that was way more acknowledgeable than a colourful lip.

And there was an evident difference between the two scenes, when she was an innocent child the world appeared more saturated and radiant by honour of her mother's presence, but now a grey tint soaked into the atmosphere replaced the vibrancy with indecency- the only thing that resembled her mother being the expensive lipstick smothered across her mouth, in exception of her jade irises which were inherited in honour of the deceased parent.