The Lion in the Wardrobe

6 Months Later

6 months later

***

It is Monday.

Rachel wakes up, looks out her dorm room window, and starts crying. Gently, at first, softly. But it then quickly escalates to hiccups and gulps and little moans. She dashes to the bathroom to scoop up some tissue, then pauses.

She catches herself in the mirror, and her heart sears as she analyzes what she sees. Big, puffy red eyes. Big, puffy hair, scattered like leaves in the autumn. Her face is streaked with last night's makeup that she didn't even bother to wipe off. Rachel utters a groan and tiptoes to her closet.

It is school today. College. She has to look good, because right now she looks like a Barbie doll gone wrong. She has the ideal figure in all the right places, but she has the wrong clothes, hair, and makeup to go with it.

She opens her closet, and it squeaks, grinding, and she winces. The clothes intimidate her. As she runs her hand across the fabrics, Rachel burns, and she keeps blinking, trying to recalculate her thoughts. She needs her glasses. It's a dizzying array, and she can't possibly choose what to wear. Not without Jake. Jake always knew what she had to wear.

Rachel finally pulls out a dark blue blouse, throws on some dark jeans, and slips on some flats. She is about to leave when she is yanked backward.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Rachel gasps and spins around, but she doesn't see anyone there. "I'm by myself," she thinks, "in my dorm room. About to go to school."

"Not with that outfit you're not," the voice growls.

Rachel blinks again, and Jakes now stood in front of her. "We're about to go to the club, Rachel. You can't be looking like that!"

Rachel glances around, and she discovers that she's outside, at night, surrounded by glowing buildings. Her closet isn't there anymore.

"But how will I get clothes?"

Jake sucks his teeth. "You know I got cash, Babe. Why you flexin?"

He flashes out his wallet. Rachel tries to hide a smile. She forgot: Jake always feels like he has to expose his bulging wallet with every chance that he has.

"Now buy yourself a baby doll top, some black skinny leggings, and some stilettos. It doesn't matter what color." He raises an eyebrow at her. "You do know what stilettos are, right?"

Rachel reaches for the wallet, but once she touches it, she is back in her dorm. It's like the colors quickly bled out around her and melted her back to where she started.

"Alright, baby doll top it is." She rummages through her closet and stretches on the flimsy fabric. Her breasts look much bigger, and her stomach clenches. She feels so uncomfortable. But Rachel squeezes on a smile. "It doesn't matter," she thinks. "As long as Jake can possibly notice me again."

"Notice you?" Rachel turns around, and she is now sitting at a booth. French fries fill the air. Jake is slurping a milkshake. Cookies and Cream. That is his favorite. He puts his arm around her. Rachel leans into him, but he tightens his grip on her. He hisses in her ear, "How can I ever notice you if I can barely see your eyes behind your big glasses?"

"Glasses?" Rachel didn't even know she had them on. They were previously in her case, closed, in the bathroom this morning.

"I will just take them off," she reaches to her face, but Jake slaps her hand away. "No. You need them to see, Baby Girl. I'm not stupid. I'm not gonna let you trip and fall into something. Cuz we know you have really bad eyesight."