𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄

24

"We can cover the bruises with glitter," Amina suggests, her smile hopeful.

I sit on her bed, picking through more of her tops and trying to work around making them look slutty.

"I wish I could just get my stuff from my townhouse to make things easier. Some of my stripper stuff can still be worn," I complain, throwing down a turtleneck and sighing.

"Maybe I can ask Father," she suggested, searching my face. It wasn't hard to see that she seeked my approval. Honestly, the approval of anyone who would give her the time of day. I used to be like that with attention. Wanting the guys at the club to want me and to think about me when they went home to their girlfriends and fiancés. But then I outgrew that, and craved the attention of someone who turned out to be my captor.

I have no place to judge Amina.

"Maybe," I only shrug, secretly hoping that she would bring that up to...our...dad. If I could use her as my puppet, slowly but surely, maybe I could have things going my way just a bit around here. I mean, clearly he favors her over me.

"Um, but glitter won't help. We don't really use much glitter at our club," I explain, referring to what she said earlier. "I'll just use makeup. I know how to make it blend right. Someone showed me how just so I'd know." I stop myself. Is that healthy? Is that something that normal people just know how to do?

"If you're using makeup, I could just do it for you," Amina says softly.

"You have to know how to cancel out certain colors and correct-

"I can do it, Courtlynn," Amina repeats, her voice even softer this time. My gaze breaks away from hers.

Two knocks sounded on the door.

"Come in Ali," Amina rolled her eyes, already knowing who it was.

"I'm not naked," I add.

"Darn. I guess I'll have to come back later," he says sarcastically, coming in. "Father wants you to come to his study."

"Again. I'm gettin' dressed. I need to leave on time, right?" My turn to be sarcastic.

"Just go," Ali says, holding my gaze.

"Fine," I sigh, getting up and leaving with him.

Ali and I walk side by side quietly until we reach the study. He says nothing as he walks away, the tags on his tennis shoes slapping his feet as he walked.

I knock and enter immediately. Instead of my father, my step mother sits behind his desk.

"Courtlynn."

I hesistantly close the door. Since the last time I had seen her, likely some weeks ago, she hadn't really been around me other than at breakfast. I sit down in the seat in front of the desk, remembering how just the night before I was on my knees afraid for my life.

"I have some news for you. I'm not too sure how you might take it," she begins.

"I've been through a lot in the past few hours. The past few months," I add, "I think I'll be able to take it at this point."

I get distracted and my gaze flits around the study. I wasn't sure, but my father didn't seem like the sort of guy who would want his wife in his study. Was this meeting supposed to be happening? Did he approve of this?

"Your father is away on business, and I'm sure that it wouldn't have taken you too long to realize that. Especially when he won't show for breakfast. I'm telling you this because he'll have eyes on you still. Don't think that because he's away you can run off again," she warns me. She stands. Navy Bermuda shorts, pastel blue blouse. And I realize that this is my first time viewing her legs; I see bruises running up and down them. Her arms are soft and marked, and her neck is smooth and her face is young. You'd never be able to tell.