Bare Her Soul (James Patrick March x reader )

Fourteen

Liz pulled her hand a fraction back from your face, swishing the eyeliner pencil out of the way to scrutinise you.

"You seem different" she said.

"Hm" you gave a light shrug of your shoulders "clarity I suppose."

It had been just short of a week since your wild, two-day head-fuck-athon and with Sally having left the hotel, you felt better.

You'd resumed exploring life in LA, this soul searching trip that you were determined to make worth it for the strip it had torn out of your wallet.

James had stayed with you until you slept that night, but he'd been gone by morning. You couldn't blame him. You'd seen James a couple of times here and there since, but he'd mostly been busy, and you needed the time to yourself. You had never been good at processing bad experiences. Never really learned how to accept them and move on. It was far easier to pray to God, and trust with full faith that he would right everything in the end. But your experience at the confessional had taught you that it wasn't that simple. Not always. Sometimes the door to consolation would be slammed in your face. You tried not to feel resentful, reminded yourself that it was one church, in one city. Still, you couldn't rely on God to get you out of everything anymore.

Liz cast her gaze down for a heartbeat and then resumed lining your eyes with thick black "Well hold onto that, you'll need it."

"Hm, Liz you make that same face every time I talk about James - why don't you just come tonight?"

Liz snorted, wiping a crumb of mascara away from your cheekbone with a light touch of her pinky finger "because I wasn't invited - not that I'd go anyway. But March is very particular about his guest list for devils night."

"Halloween" you corrected.

After a few more strokes of the pencil, Liz paused. Leaned her weight back on the mattress a few inches to admire her work, and a genuine smile worked it's way across her face.

"All done" she winked, returning the pencil to her makeup bag, and lifting a black hand mirror, decorated with red oriental patterns, up to face you.

You gawked at the glass. The girl inside it was unrecognisable. Her eyes looked even larger now they were framed in a deep black, and she looked older by at least three years, with the thick cat wings pulling up from the outer corners, and a brown gloss that made the plumpness of her lips look coated in a dark syrup.

"Liz...." you breathed "ok I've got to ask, and don't hate me for it, but...if you can do makeup like a heckin' Hollywood star - why the Cleopatra eyes?"

Liz threw her head back with a laugh. She dipped her head to lean in towards you then, opposite you on her bed. She wore a stern expression and her voice was thick with significance when she spoke " because Cleopatra was a woman who didn't take shit from men, she didn't let her genitals hold her back,  she was in charge of her life from start to end..we all need a badass momma like that in our lives."

You grinned at the woman, humour dancing in your eyes "are you my badass momma then?"

"Not in those tacky cat ears love."

You laughed and with a final glance in the hand mirror, stood up from the bed. You opened your arms and did a small, unpracticed waggle of your hips.

"How do I look?"

Liz looked you up and down in an exaggerated manner, for your benefit. The truth was, you looked incredible. And in your black slip dress, with the dark, cat-like makeup she'd accomplished to go with your ears, you looked different. Liz knew that tonight would, inevitably, be the night you'd die. She didn't want James to have the satisfaction of murdering the pure, daisy chain girl that had skipped through the doors of this hotel, a picture of white light, like the first breath of spring among the dead leaves.

"Like you-" she dragged out the 'u' and smirked "had three minutes to prepare a costume?"

"Well I did, I got these at Walmart!" You stabbed a finger in the air at your ears, clearly no more pleased about them than Liz "I've never even celebrated Halloween before."

"There's a first time for everything" she sighed - or a last.

You did the worst thing you could have done in that moment. You hugged her. Both arms wrapped around her shoulders as you leaned down, squeezing her gently in your embrace.

"Thanks Liz, you're a beauty."

The woman's eyes were trained past your arm and on the wall opposite, she didn't move an inch, frozen there and you let go before you could notice.

"No" she said finally, eyes cast to the carpet now " that's you, love."

Liz watched you leave, excitement mixed with your nerves - presumably at the thought of James seeing your outfit. Every time you mentioned him to her that week, ever since the night he'd "comforted you", you'd had a look in your eyes akin to that of a mystified child. She suspected that the rosary would be right where she left it, for what reason would you need it - now that you had the great James Patrick March looking out for you?

Liz's stomach churned. When you were gone from her room, she pressed her strained face into the palms of her hands.

She hoped that one day, in the long eternity you'd spend at the hotel Cortez, you'd forgive her.