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 caller 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 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. "Where's the rest of-"

"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. It's too much...too much... skin, too much of me. My scars sit just beneath the fabric, like they're waiting to be seen, even if my hair hides most of them.

The one on my collarbone is harder to ignore. I tell myself I can lie if anyone asks. I've always been good at that.

Showing off my body has never felt safe. Not after everything it's been through. But I don't say anything...don't tell Nora no... because I know she wouldn't really listen. She'd think I'm just insecure. It's so much more than that.

So instead, I do what I've always done. I smooth the fabric, take a steadying breath, and talk myself into being okay with it. Tell myself it's fine. That I'm fine.

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.