Clandestine | 18+

24- Identity

-Not Edited-

Lana Del Rey- Cherry
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"No matter how much you try to hide in the dark, the sun will always rise."
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I stood in front of the club in the middle of New York. It stood tall, neon purple lights on the edges, a big sign above the door welcoming your arrival.

It screamed luxury.

I stood in line, a short enough black dress to cover my ass, a deep V cut in the middle with a with a red rada belt on my waist.

I searched my black Prada Bag for the little golden card that gave me a privilege to skip the entire line.

People stared as I kept walking until reaching the bodyguards.

"There's a line." He grunted, his bald head shining under the neon light, his muscular hands crossed.

I titled my head right.

"Oh?" I showed him the golden card only VIPs got. It worked on every institution, club, museum, basically everything that you had to wait in line for.

"My mistake. You may enter, miss." He sounded forced and people grunted in line, some cursed, some left the line.

I saw the club, silver chandeliers, deep blood red ceilings, rich black walls, a stage in front for the stripteases.

I walked through drunk people who were chugging their drinks up their throats and entered the VIP area.

Here it was different. Lap dancers. Mini bar where the stage was supposed to be. Deep gold walls and golden chandeliers.

I searched the room for her, and I stopped where I found her seated.

Her dress bloodied red, her heals same colour too. Her hair was half up, a hair clip matching the  rest of the outfit.

I checked her from head to toe again.

She hated red. Loathed it.

It reminded her of blood.

A shame, the thing that she hated was what I stained my hand with.

I walked towards her, a smile in my face and as if she felt my stare, she disconnected her gaze from the glass of red wine and focused on me.

She didn't smile back.

The curve of my lips slowly fell, now wondering what is it that I had done.

Why was she dressed in her least favourite color? Why didn't she smile back?

I sat in front of her, the soft cushion was comfortable against my body, the color of it black.

"Hi." I started the conversation, my tone higher.

"Don't bullshit me without starting." She finally answered, her curly hair shaking with the motion of her head.

"What do you mean?" My pulse quickened but my voice didn't move an inch.

"Luboutin heels." She smiled.

I was confused as I stared at my heels.

"Yeah?" I answered not understanding where this conversation was going.

"No white clothes? Only gifted?" Her smile became bigger, more on the ironic side.

I titled my head right.

"I don't like white."

"You don't like speaking in your voice too, it seems."

Time stopped. The music blasting on the walls seconds before faded, my mind cloudier.