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everybody hurts

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Angel

I arrive at the studio, wiping my eyes one last time and steeling myself. The show must go on, and so does the façade. 

I open the doors. "Hey, whores, your favorite bitch is here!" I exclaim. Valentino materializes and glues himself to me, steering me towards my dressing room.  "Hey sugar," he purrs. His talons dig into my shoulders and I wince. "So I want a big theme. Lots of gold and silver and black. Go get dressed in the piece you wore in that photoshoot earlier, mkay? And make your makeup more dramatic, put lots of jewelry on. Lucille, Essence, Drama, and Luminous will be there as well. I'll see you in my studio in ten, darling," he murmurs against my neck, kissing me slow as he retracts. "I've got myself to attend to." 

I shut my door behind me quickly and slide down, tears brimming again. The hell is wrong with me these days? Usually I just stuff all this down.

It's because you're reaching your breaking point. You're close to the edge now.

I shake my head to clear it and search for the set. After putting it on, I darken and lengthen my eyeliner, re-apply eyeshadow, shine my gold tooth, gloss my lips. 

I then drape chains of diamond, gold, and silver over my pushed-up chest fluff. I brush my hair until it's silky-smooth, and put on black thigh-highs, grimacing as I pull my hideous feet out of my regular maroon heels. All of my goddamn shoes have to be custom made to fit these awful things.

I take one last look in the mirror, grinning when I see how amazing I look. Then I remember what it's for, and my smile wavers. Someone knocks on my door. Knowing it's Val, I take my time pulling my fur coat over my shoulders and walking to the door. 

I open the door, and he takes me in, mouth falling open a bit. "Angie, you..." he trails off. "Oh, you are absolutely going to co-star if they take the offer. Look at this perfection," he says, circling me. I feel trapped, and all of a sudden, it's hard to breathe.

I nod weakly. He leans down, and I'm reminded of a shark when he smiles. he has the same gold tooth as me, and seeing it always makes me wanna pull mine out. He's wearing a new fur coat, a deep maroon with white trim, and his body is covered in gold sequins. 

"I have a special... accessory to add to yours," he murmurs, exhaling his red cigarette smoke onto me. My stomach clenches, and he brought out the very thing I was dreading. 

A gold collar and leash inlaid with diamonds. 

No. 

But all I can seem to do is sit there placidly as he moves all my chains aside and fixes it to my neck, taking my face in his hands afterward, the scent of his cigarettes, cherries, and sex clouding my head, intoxicating me. 

"You're going to do so well," he coos. "They're going to take one look at you and join our company, not just collaborate with us." 

I feel myself nodding, slipping (with the help of his drug-heavy persona) into the Valentino version of Angel. Compliant. Sexy. Willing. Quiet or loud when needed. 

He leads the way to his office, and I follow (like I have  choice), wishing I could grow wings and fly far, far away from here. 

Wishing I could have the power to stand up to him.

Wishing I could just walk away without consequences. 

Wishing for things that will never happen.