F.L.Y.N.N [ Book no.1 of "The Fouling Damned duo"]

02: 13 | gaudy excuses

~ Tempest's POV, continuation~

YOU'D THINK that every little girl would've dreamt of moments like this. Ruffled lace. Baby blue colour. Puffy off shoulder dress; exposed my shoulders almost too much. Some pale, powder-blue-ish small, embroidered flowers stitched on my dress of baby blue shiny, satin all scattered throughout.

There's a slit that starts from halfway down my right thigh that would've exposed some of my tanned skin if it weren't for the ruffles of lace that is layered from the inside of the second layer of the dress. It makes it rather comfortable that this dress comes with an inserted skort hidden inside, so that way I can move freely knowing that I wouldn't need to succumb to the usage of a pantyhose underneath my dress.

Ems topped it all off with a vintage looking lace handbag that can also be used as a sling bag with the use of its long, pearl strap that can be hooked from both sides of the bag. Being that I have a different skin tone that Ems does; hers being of a miky-pale Eastern Asian skin tone, and mine being of a darker shade of medium olive, before we went to her place to get me dolled up, we stopped by Sephora to pick up some foundation, blush, lip gloss and lipstick, and a set of eyeshadows that would better fit my skin tone. As for the eyeliner, primer, setting spray etc., Ems had it all on her vanity table, a shabby chic looking pale-green awashed thing, with a rounded, large mirror smack dab in the center of it all.

She applies my makeup light, but with peachy undertones, the orange-ish brown-ish cream blush and lip set making a statement along with my curled, dark locks tied up in a crown braid, emphasizing my heart-shaped face.

"So, do you feel better now, Tems?" She asks me, dubbing me, once again, with that funny nickname she and Weggy decided to give me, short for my actual name, Tempest.

"Well-" I start to say, however, I'm at loss for words, when I see something on the table of her vanity: a photograph of a little girl wearing a magicians' hat.

She takes note of my staring, and she gives me a small smile, and picks up the framed photograph, with a sigh.

"Well, this is actually a picture of my mother, when she first went to the D.F.C. magic show in Los Angeles... This is actually the only piece of information I have of figuring out how she died, or rather- where she died... Although, Sheriff did tell me that he suspects that she was eaten alive during the Winter of 2010, although, I don't believe him..."

"Oh, I see..."

But, as Ems starts to ramble a bit here and there for the next ten or so minutes about the unsolved murder case of her late mother's death... I'm here wondering:

Why is it that I have that same magicians' hat... The one that Ems' mother is wearing in the yellowed, beat-up, and probably, ancient... Photograph of her as a little girl?

Why would Granny Dorothy give me such a thing?

She's not your grandmother.

Her name is Emily.

My twin sister doesn't got any grandbabies!

"Hey, Ems?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you mean by the Winter of 2010?"

I try once more, to change the subject.

Perhaps I'd get a better clue what exactly is that hat...

And, moreso, what it meant to Ems' mother:

And most of all:

Me.

But, I'd rather not get too trapped in the past for now.

******

" Say, Tem, can I tell you something?" Her hands... They are shaking.

What is it that she could possibly be that terror-stricken by even the utter thought of the... Winter of 2010? Was it a moment in her life, that she lost her mother to something more terrible... Than death itself?

What could possibly be worse, than death itself?

To be eaten alive?

But that's impossible!

Clearly just a mere fairytale!

And yet, I couldn't seem to get it. 

No matter how many times I tried to feel sorry for her, for anyone, and tried to empathize with the lot of them, I could never look past the surface.

Is this what it means to empathize with someone? Is what I'm feeling... What do they call empathy? Even considering the trauma that they've been through, even as the sky falls and the moon rises and even you can't help but laugh at their-

" Uhh sure-" It's all I can utter in the end, really.

She purses her lips, and with a shake of her head, she sighs. A very long, sad, sigh.

Why... Why are you sad?

YOU don't have the right to be sad.

YOUR LIFE IS BETTER THAN-

" Haha! Well, well, you look at that! The time... We've gotta go otherwise Mister Haughty Taughty will whip our asses!" I think she's trying to change the subject-

C is for cease.

" Haha, well yeah sure! Ummm, may I ask who is Mister-"

She winks playfully, saying, " LOL. It's Axel d-u-h."

H is for help.

" Oh. I see-" I start to say, but she cuts me off by stacking more heaps of blush on my cheekbones.

A is for alone,

N is for no.

" But, do I really need this much blush? It looks rather overbearing, plus, it seems impractical at the bar-"

Ignoring me, she then grabs some Chanel perfume and spritzes it in the air.

" Geez, that smells...Awful!" I complain.

Again, she ignores me, with a smug look on her face.

" Come, come, off we go! We're gonna be late if we don't hurry up," Ems says, as she picks up her wallet, car keys, and her expensive-looking handbag. I sigh as she pushes me out the door. 

The look painted on her countenance is happy, thrilled, and excited.

And mine?

Well, it could be compared to that of a pair of:

Monotonous eyes.

*****

G is for gaudy.

E is for ..Excuses.

And, as we drove over to the bar downtown, my head throbbed throughout the entire car ride...

Making me think that I-

Perhaps should've never doubted my fear for the unknown...

And perhaps I had a gut feeling that, maybe grandmother died for a reason:

A reason that I would rather NOT fathom.