Obsession From the Shadows

The Party

"Enough. I've had enough. It should've been me!" I shout, pacing back and forth in the hallway. Dark brown hair lays half styled on my head, long given up on. An absentminded hand runs through that messes it up more, the least of my worries currently.

Tiffany scoffs, "what's so special about her anyway? Pretty weak and not much to look at." She doesn't bother to glance my direction, completely unfazed at my actions and busying herself by buffing her nails while standing in front of the bathroom mirror.

My sister's words cause me to stop dead in my tracks in front of the doorway. "You shut up! Never say that about her, ever. Or I'll frame you for something and get your ass put right back into the looney bin."

Flinching back and crossing her arms defensively, she retorts, "the doctors said it's not healthy for me to be in an environment with yelling and loud noises." Giving one last look at her nails, she sets the nail buffer on the counter. She begins to preen herself, beginning by brushing her locks with a cheap purple hairbrush. She struggles with the brittle strands, damaged from the poor quality ginger box dye that she demanded we go buy fresh out of the mental institution.

"Quite frankly I don't care what your doctors have to say. Besides, there's going to be loud noises at the party. Do you want me to leave you behind?" I threaten, stepping a little closer into the bathroom.

Her eyes widen, like the scared child she used to be before I fixed her personality to be actually useful. "Leave me behind?" She croaks, choking on each individual word as if they were hard to swallow pills. 

Brushing off her ridiculous question, I reach into my pocket and check my phone. "C'mon we should go soon, if you take any longer I might just change my mind."

In a frenzy, she quickly brushes on a few unorganized makeup products and looks at herself one last time in the mirror before turning to me.

"How do I look?" She questions meekly, fluffing her hair a little more as we begin to walk down the hall.

"Like a disappointment." I grumbled, stepping down the stairs that creak in protest while Tiffany trails close behind me.

Immediately after entering, I feel trapped in the beat of the loud music blasting from speakers. Everyone seems under the hypnosis of the pounding rhythm, dancing and talking without a care in the world, so naturally pretty. I myself find it difficult to resist the way it lures me in, but when I look over my shoulder, Jasper seems relatively unaffected. In fact, the noise that pulls me closer into the movement with the others seems to cause him to draw back into the nasty cloak he insisted on wearing. His golden eyes scan for something, someone. I know what he wants and it disgusts me.

Taking steps away from him, I boldly march into the crowd. The party is in someone's house, I'm not sure who's it is and neither do I care. They don't seem to care either as there's no parental supervision that I can find. They aren't my normal crowd of people, but it's better that way. With the way that girls pay no mind other than a simple glance, and the parts on my body that the fools called men are looking at it's clear my reputation hasn't been very damaged during my stay at the mental hospital. I breathe a sigh of relief while walking into the kitchen, my reputation and looks is the only thing that belongs to me. Jasper took my mind and opinions long ago, not that I miss it all that much.

Scooping punch out of a wide glass bowl, I gaze into my reflection looking back at me in the bright red liquid. Do I miss my mind? I don't think I do. After all, I never had much of a life to live beforehand. Tentatively, I take a sip of the mixture from my plastic cup. My lipstick stains the rim, I pull my finger up to trace it, but before I can even touch it I'm interrupted.

"How do you think you're going to drink that by just staring at it?" A voice causes me to turn and I'm faced by a girl far taller than myself. Despite her tall stance, she's rather narrow with an elongated face.

Feeling a tightening in my chest I look up and her and smile politely, tossing my ginger hair to the side. "I'm not too sure myself."

She laughs, her broad smile showing off crooked teeth with hot pink braces, I can't help but grin as well. The girl leans down, her face just above me.

"You have a nice smile, too bad your lipstick is smudged," without warning, she brings her hand up and wipes off the lipstick on the side of my mouth, just like what I was going to do with my cup. "There much better. My name is Sofia by the way."

Sofia.

Struggling to keep my confidence, I giggle nervously and grasp onto her slender wrist. She doesn't seem to be popular by any means, but she's so captivating. I know nothing about this girl, there's no point in being friends with her to climb higher in social status. By any and all means she is nothing to me. She should be nothing to me, yet the pull towards her I feel more intensely than the pulse of the music. Jasper wouldn't like this, I'm supposed to find and focus on Clay. But for once, under the gaze of Sofia, I have my own thoughts.

What is this?

In a meek whisper, I say breathlessly, "Tiffany."

Sofia steps back, looking me up and down. It sends chills down my spine, in a way that gave me a painful yearning. She nods, satisfied.

"That fits you," she claims, "I'd like to get to know you more. I can tell you're holding back."

This isn't happening. He said that I love Clay. That's what he told me my thoughts were. Then, why do I feel a way I have never felt before? Her face is marked with splotches of pimples on and surrounding her large crooked nose, as rose colored as the flower I feel blossoming inside of me. The thin sandy blonde hair parted in the middle, falling down just to her collarbone which is exposed by an off the shoulder white blouse. Although the light in the crowded kitchen in harsh, her lanky frame appears to be highlighted before me. Anyone at any given time would not look at her twice — except for maybe their astonishment at her being absurdly taller than the average teen boy. Without a doubt, she was the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.

"I..." it feels as if my words fail me. My quiet trailed off sentence drowned out by the party that surrounds us. Looking down in defeat, I swirl around the red liquid in the cup that I hold. I feel like the small pathetic child I used to be, maybe I still am inside.

Sofia uses her spindly fingers to raise my chin, peering into my eyes, past the Tiffany that Jasper made me, past the hurting others, past the hurt in me.

"How about we take this somewhere quieter and more private? I heard there's a few vacant bedrooms we can go to," Sofia states boldly with a smirk on her face.

[I told you guys that it will get more interesting from now on~]

-Fuzzsoda