Daggers of love

chapter 45

The bathroom was nice but then again V.I.P is always nice. Even though it was a pretty meh joint, they seemed to know how to treat royalty enough that they don't sue. That was pretty good for me.

The drugs have mostly all but worn off at this point, leaving me a nervous, overthinking, protective wreck. My mind only really being able to focus on three things, drugged out Marcus, drugged out maria, and that overwhelming feeling of doom that sat at the bottom of my stomach. I had seemingly forgotten about the real issue at hand, the real reason as to why we're here.

Billy needed to kill his dad.

That's the real reason you've been dragged into this mess. The real reason why you're here in a mediocre V.I.P changeroom/ bathroom dressing up in an expensive dress on the off chance you get caught by Lin or some other form of authority.

Did I feel a little used? Yeah. Am I going to complain about it? probably, but in the mean time lets get into this fucking dress.

It didn't take long for me to strip, exposing all my not so hidden marks to myself in the mirror. Each line was a shitty excuse, a shitty attempt to escape. if I'm right and I truly hope I'm not, I think I might be making more of those attempts in the not-so-distant future. Wow this is getting depressing real fucking quickly. Let's move on... where were we?? Oh yeah, the dress.

Like most of the things I own, it fit me perfectly. The expensive shiny fabric making me look way too fucking expensive for a joint like this, maybe this is a little too overkill? Nah fuck it, I'm a Lucchesi, if I'm not turning heads I may as well be adopted.

I decided to pair the dress with some nice classic heels, thin, just like my patients. They were a light metallically silver but practically reflected the dress, the green just an illusion to the verry untrained eye.

I do the basic touch ups that where needed for my face, simple jewellery also added into the mix. I looked expensive, I look important but more importantly, I looked fucking stunning. Eyeing myself in the mirror I listened to the voices start up in my head, mean little sounds projecting all their issues with my appearance.

Your arms look too big in that dress.

I can see your lunch.

This green isn't your colour.

You don't look expensive, you look cheap.

Maria would have done better.

There were no attempts made to silence these words, just a deep breath, hoping to lessen my anxiety. It didn't work, fuck it.

Finally, after spritzing on some expensive perfume, I leave the dressing room. Heels clicking, hips swaying, heart thumping.

Finding the others wasn't as hard as I thought, the fact that they were stoned out of their minds was not helping them blend in at all. Marcus was holding onto Saya, looking like he's just witnessed a murder, mile Saya looked like a manic pixie dream girl just entered the 7th dimension. Maria seemed to be giving a pep talk to a waitress while billy grabs more drinks, stealing them off the serving plate of said waitress.

I walk up behind Marcus and Saya, catching the end, or beginning of whatever conversation has happened.

"I see that end- of- movie text telling us where we're gonna be in the future" Saya begins, or continues. "Billy bennet finally marries Petra, and he becomes the Frankenstein window washer." I stifle a light listening to her, as much as I love the idea of Petra and billy, I'm seriously doubting the possibility of that happening. "and" Saya actually continues, "Marcus Arguello ends up marrying y/n, having two beautiful kids together." Saya smiles off into the distance, daydreaming this fantasy she has. My eyes widen at her depiction of the future... she's high... just leave this shit be.