Aurora Lockheart was once the sunshine girl-bright, kind, and full of life. But one night changed everything, leaving her a shadow of who she used to be.
A year later, just as she's beginning to think she'll never find her way back, her ex-best fr...
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I'm stood at the sink, watching my reflection in the mirror as I carefully reapply my lip gloss. The familiar scent fills the air, calming my nerves. Lola strides in, her shoes clacking against the tiled floor. I can feel her eyes on me, and when I glance up, she's standing just behind me, a smug grin plastered on her face.
"Using your sob story to get Gibsie's attention now?" she sneers, locking eyes with me through the mirror. "This is low, even for you, Aurora." Her voice drips with condescension as she saunters closer, her hands casually on her hips like she's about to deliver a speech.
I pop the lip gloss cap back on with a soft click and slip it into my blazer pocket, not even bothering to fully turn around. "Jealous doesn't look good on ye, Lola," I say calmly, my voice steady, but my eyes narrow slightly. She loves to push buttons, and I know better than to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
"Jealous?" she scoffs, like the word itself offends her. "I'm not jealous of a pity parade like you. You and your sister—always stealing attention, always making everything about ye." Her voice is bitter now, venom lacing every word.
I spin around to face her directly, my patience wearing thin. "Keep my sister's name out of your mouth, I swear, Lola," I say, my tone low and warning. My hands clench into fists by my sides, but I force myself to stay calm. Not here. Not now.
She lets out a cold, mocking laugh, leaning in so close that I can feel her breath on my cheek. "Oh, please. It was perfect before you came back. Me and Gibsie were perfect. Yet you swoop in, like you always do, stealing my boyfriend."
I blink in surprise, then burst out laughing, louder than I meant to. "Boyfriend?" I repeat, my laughter subsiding as I look at her with wide eyes. "Lola, please. You're the definition of delusional. Flick through a dictionary, and your name'll be right there in the 'deranged' section."
She glares at me, her face twisting in frustration. "I've warned you, Aurora," she snarls, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Stay the fuck away from him."
"Or what?" I challenge, taking a step closer, refusing to back down. "What're you gonna do, Lola? Cry about it some more?"
She's fuming now, her jaw clenched so tightly I half expect her to shatter her own teeth. But instead, she just lets out a frustrated growl before storming out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
I let out a slow breath, shaking my head as the tension finally leaves my shoulders.
"Fucking weirdo," I mutter under my breath, adjusting my blazer and checking my reflection again
______________________
I hated lying to Gibsie, yet I'd done it again. Every time felt worse than the last, but I couldn't stop. I wasn't going to Katie's tonight. Instead, I was heading to work. I'd missed out on too much money lately, and I needed it. I couldn't keep slacking off, not when every penny mattered.
In some twisted way, it was a win-win situation for me. The coke and whatever other substances I'd been given had dulled everything—the pain, the guilt, the shame. All of it, gone in a haze of numbness.
"You're off for tonight—don't be late tomorrow," Andrew muttered, barely glancing at me as he brushed past, disappearing into his office.
Cunt.
I stumbled outside, barely feeling the cool night air against my skin. High off my head, I turned a few corners until I found a spot on a brick wall and sat down, trying to gather my thoughts. I couldn't even count how many clients I'd had tonight. I just knew my body was going to ache tomorrow—or, today, really, since it was past midnight. The dull throb had already started to creep into my muscles, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the hum in my veins instead.
I rang for a taxi, barely remembering the ride home. When I stepped inside the house, everything was quiet, just as I'd hoped. I sank into the sofa, exhaustion weighing down on me like a heavy blanket. My hands fumbled for my phone, and I pulled up my messages with Gibsie. I don't know why I always did this, but reading through them, seeing his words, made me feel ten times better.
His texts were simple—banter, inside jokes, little snippets of his day. But they grounded me in a way nothing else could right now. I scrolled through them slowly, letting each one sink in, trying to distract myself from the mess in my head.
Just as I was about to re-read one of his texts again, my phone buzzed, and a call came through. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his name flash on the screen. Without thinking, I answered immediately.
"Hello?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Hey," he replied, his voice softer than usual. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"
"No... no, I was already awake," I said, sitting up a little straighter. "Everything okay?"
There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost hear him debating whether to say what was really on his mind. "Yeah," he finally said, but I knew better.
"You had a nightmare, didn't you?" I asked gently, a hint of a smile in my voice.
"Yeah," he admitted after a beat, his voice quieter. "And I just... I don't know, I just wanted to hear your voice."
A warmth spread through my chest at his words. "Soft fucker," I chuckled softly, even though my heart ached a little. He didn't know what kind of mess I was in right now. He thought I was safe, warm at home, living a life miles away from the one I was actually stuck in.
"What're you doing up?" he asked, the question casual, but I could tell he was trying to shift the focus off himself.
I hesitated for a split second. "Got hungry," I lied smoothly, the words rolling off my tongue. I forced a laugh to match his. "You know me, can't sleep on an empty stomach."
He chuckled too, and for a moment, everything felt normal again. "You and your midnight snacks. What are you eating this time?"
"Just cereal," I said, picturing myself in the kitchen, making up some story to keep the conversation light. "Nothing fancy."
He hummed on the other end, and there was a comfortable silence between us for a few moments. I closed my eyes, letting the sound of his breathing fill the quiet of the room. It was moments like this that I wished I could just come clean, tell him everything. But the truth would ruin us. And I couldn't handle that—not on top of everything else.
"You gonna be okay now?" I asked, breaking the silence, my voice soft.
"Yeah, I'm good," he said, though I could hear the exhaustion lingering. "Thanks for answering. I just needed... you."
His words hit me harder than I expected, a pang of guilt mixing with the warmth his voice brought. "Always, Gibs," I whispered. "Anytime."
After a few more minutes of small talk, we said our goodnights, and the line went dead. I stared at the phone for a long moment, my heart still racing. As I sank back into the sofa, I could feel the weight of everything crashing back in—the lies, the secrets, the pain.
