Shattered Asylum

Chapter 16

    Trigger Warning:

I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep until the sharp ringing of my phone jarred me awake. Groaning, I fumble for it on the nightstand, answering without checking the call ID. "Hello," I mumble, my voice thick with sleep.

"Aven? Have you been sleeping all day?" Nora's voice comes through loud and clear, making me wince.

I squint at the clock on my phone. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to get up and get dressed, obviously! It's already five! We're going out," she announces, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Going where?" I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I sit up. My body protests every movement, curse this stupid period and my still throbbing ankle.

"To a party! And don't even think about saying no. I'm almost at your house."

I barely have time to mutter a reply before she hangs up. Great. So much for a quiet night.

True to her word, Nora swept into my room a few minutes later, armed with a hair straightener and an alarming amount of makeup brushes. "Sit," she commands, pushing me down into the chair by my vanity.

I resign myself to my fate as she attacks my long, curly brown hair with precision, straightening it until it falls in a sleek waves down my back.

By the time she was finished with my hair and makeup, I hardly recognized myself. Nora had gone all out, dark eyeliner, bold lashes, and a soft shimmer on my cheeks that caught the light perfectly.

I look...beautiful, but the sight makes my stomach twist.

"This," Nora declares, holding up a black, off the shoulder crop top and a matching mini skirt, "is what you're wearing."

I hesitate, eyeing the top. "It's too-"

"It's perfect," she interrupts, tossing it at me. "Now go change."

Reluctantly, I slip into the outfit, tugging at the hem of the crop top as I glance at my reflection. The shirt barely covers the scars on my back, but thankfully, my hair hides most of them.

The scar on my collarbone is harder to miss, but I know I can come up with a quick lie if anyone asks.

Satisfied, Nora hands me a pair of black heels with straps that wound up my legs. I sit on the edge of my bed, trying to strap them on, but the moment I tried to stand, my ankle screamed in protest.

A sharp, shooting pain reminded me that this was not going to happen.

"Ugh, these are a no," I mutter, wincing as I sit back down and unbuckle the straps.

Nora frowns. "What's wrong?"

"My ankle's still jacked up from the game," I said, gesturing toward it. "Do you think I could wear something else?"

Nora considers for a moment, then rummages through my closet. "Here," she said, pulling out a pair of black ankle boots with a low chunky heel. "These are cute and way easier to walk in."