Confessions of a Rich Girl

Chapter 3: Routine

       I am shaking. I am not sure if it was because I am naked, or the tremors that still remained from last night. Either way I am awake, though I don't remember ever sleeping. I am just lying on my bed, staring at my red ceiling like have done many times before. So, many fucking times before. I even remember when my ceiling was white. Plain, stark white. It was such a beautiful ceiling. The rest of my room is painted black and I had glow in the dark stars on my walls, but every night I would stare at it. It was the only white part in my whole room. It was exquisite. It remained that way for fifteen years until June 2nd. It was a Saturday morning. When I woke up she had left, and on that same day Brian thought my ceiling looked better red. I guess it was a punishment to me so he spent all day painting my ceiling. He knew how much that ceiling meant to me. He said he wanted me to always remember that it was my fault. As I sat there and helplessly watching him do it tears ran down my eyes. I didn't even fight him, I couldn't. I think at the time I blamed myself. I felt like I deserved it. He spent hours painting that ceiling, I thought that after he was done my punishment was over. He left my room with his paint and came back to make sure that my sheets matched my new ceiling. By that night they were both crimson red. Confession: I miss my white ceiling. RING! RING! My alarm robbed me of my thoughts. It was time to paint my face and fall back into my routine.

      I climbed out of bed, and tried my very best to stop shaking, I blamed it on the fact I am still naked. I made my way to the gray marble shower and turned it on. The water cascaded from the shower head and shot out the walls covering my entire body, but yet I couldn't feel it. No matter how hot or cold I made it, my body remained numb. So, I grabbed my sponge and scrubbed. I scrubbed until my skin was a fiery red. I scrubbed until I couldn't smell him on me. I scrubbed until all the grime and sweat was off my body. I scrubbed until my hands became sore. I scrubbed and scrubbed, but for some reason my body denied me feeling.

     I walked out the shower and stood in front of my mirror. There was that girl again, she had bruises on her face and bags under her eyes. There were marks starting from her jaw all the way to her chest. Her eyes were red from tears, and had no life in them. Her lips were colorless and chapped. I don't like this girl she's weak. I put on my makeup, making sure that not a bruise could be seen. I don't know how to play victim well, and I have done this so much I should start a theater make up business. I also learned setting spray was my my best friend. Then curled my hair and finished off with my signature red mac lipstick. Then, I went into my closet and grabbed my black and white, Calvin Klein button up and paired it off with killer dark skinny jeans. I wore a ton of gold  bracelets, unfortunately the bruises on my wrist haven't disappeared yet.  I covered my feet with white Madden Girl heels and completed my outfit with my favorite red Kors bag. After admiring the masterpiece that was myself I made my way to the kitchen. I popped in one of my morning after pills, one deep breath and made my way downstairs.

     "Good Morning Miss London, did you sleep well?" Steven our butler asked.

     "Morning Steven, you should know, your room is right next to mine like it has been for the past I don't know sixteen years? But nevertheless thanks for asking. Your concern really brings a tear to my eyes." The amount of ice snaked around my response could make Jack Frost blush. We stare at each other for a few seconds. I could have swear I saw a smirk on his lips. Confession: He still blames me. 

     With that the conversation was over, the room fell into a way too familiar silence. To distract myself, I started picking at the eggs Steven had made me. I took a few bites but I wasn't really hungry, and I wouldn't put it past him to poison me. My mind started to wander back to a pair of haunting hazel eyes that I cannot seem to forget but when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs the little appetite I had was completely obliterated.