𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | VMINKOOK

A Hopeless Crush

"Father, you wished to speak with me?"

I swung around on a crutch in the entrance hall, where a newly bought telephone sat on a small wooden table. I had never used a telephone before, but I heard from most people that they feared the machine. It was supposedly 'unnatural' and 'demonic'. I couldn't say I disagreed.

I spoke loud and clearly into the candlestick while holding the earpiece to my ear.

"Yes... son. I've been... quite busy so I haven't been able to visit. How have you been... doing?"

For some reason, the freaky way of communicating through the phone made me speak in a strange, mechanical way. "I am good, father. Thank you for asking. Have you been well?"

"I've been good, son... are you happy with your new home and freedom?"

"Yes, father. Everyone here is very kind."

"I hear you've been partying a lot."

I tensed up, my eyes widening as though my father was in the room with me. "Mi dispiace papa. I didn't mean to end up in the papers so often, it's just that those reporters seem to target me because of who I am."

"I know. I am not angry with you, mio figlio. The reason I've been busy is because I'm buying some of the local newspapers in Manhatten."

My jaw dropped. "W-what?"

"You won't be able to live out your teenage years in peace with reporters and journalists following your every move, will you? Owning the papers means owning our reputation. From now on, mio figlio, I don't want you to fear the news, capiche? Your father has it all under control."

"Alright, father," I said, screaming on the inside. "Thank you, father. "

"Happy birthday in advance, son. I won't be able to attend your party, but I wish you a great day."

I nodded, though my father couldn't see it. "Grazi, papa."

_____________

The day had finally arrived.

I was now seventeen years old, and one step closer to adulthood.

A twirly Jazz poured into the great hall of the estate, and from my hiding spot at the top of the stairs, I could see more and more guests arrive at the house.

Since the party was masquerade themed, I couldn't exactly make out who was who, but that only made it all the more exciting. I'd invited both lower class and high class guests, and because of the masks, there would be no room for judgement among the visitors. Everyone looked magical. Both rich and poor. That was all that mattered.

I looked down at myself and adjusted my mask to make sure the upper half of my face was obscured. My heart was racing and I hadn't stopped sweating since I'd gotten dressed.

I was wearing an evening gown.

It was blue and gold and turquoise, and it reminded me of a rare tropical bird. I straightened out my dress for the hundredth time and smiled. I was wearing a flowy, dreamy evening gown.