I never thought meeting a lovely, yet mysterious man would result in me potentially coming to my demise. If there was a possibility the future communicated with the past, I would've been known about it. There was never the type of chance that would happen. I would never be notified of my death until I came to staring it directly in the face, in the last moments of living.
The day was beginning to creep into the nightly hours as I finished readying myself for the ball I was to attend. Balls never had any interest to me, and I hardly attended them, but my friend insisted I attend it with her. She told it was a way for me to finally meet a suitor to my liking because it was going to be a ball of such things. Women would be trying to find suitors and hope the one they found to their liking would approach them and ask if they would be theirs. I didn't like being out there to men. I loved being independent and alone.
As I took a final glance to confirm my appearance was to my liking, I smoothed out the small wrinkles in my somewhat poofy ball gown and walked out of my bedroom. The carriage was awaiting me downstairs and I had a butler escort me to the carriage where my friend was and he helped me in. After thanking him, my friend and I were driven to the ball. Upon stopping in front of the doors, I could see the lights inside of the mansion. It seemed like a very vibrant party. A man came out to help my friend and I out of the carriage and we were soon escorted inside.
Music was playing in the room from a live orchestra and women were too busy fawning over men. It took me a moment to gather in my surroundings because it appeared so much was occurring in that very moment. I watched as my friend ran off to another group of girls, giggling and exclaiming about as I continued to journey further into the room. I planned on staying far off in a corner because gatherings like these weren't my favorite nor did they catch my interest. The room wasn't as greatly lit, but the dimness added an atmosphere of romance.
As I got myself a drink, my eyes scanned the room and soon fell on a mysterious looking man. He caught my interest and I was glad he hadn't spotted me yet. It was rather rude to be caught staring at strangers. While I was mesmerized by his mysterious appearance and body language, I hadn't noticed him turning his attention to me. I was suddenly met with icy blue eyes with hints of green. Feeling rather embarrassed, I turned my head and felt my face heat up, color most definitely on my cheeks.
I journeyed towards a corner where I wouldn't be spotted. Girls were looking around the room, hoping men would give them the candles they withheld in their hands. I wasn't really caring, only going because my friend wanted me to and to be there for her support. Clearly, I didn't quite see the point in coming to these because I didn't need a man to tie me down or to make me better. I guess you could say I was married to my work.
Rumors were always spread about me wherever I went. I was more than old enough to be married, yet I hadn't had a man at my side and a ring on my finger. I was often fawned over and asked to be married to plenty of man, but they always faced one thing: my rejection. I was a successful woman and I wasn't going to allow a man to take away my pride, strength, confidence, and baby away from me to be the ruler of me. All men were different, but they often travelled the same path when it came to women. Many believed me to be mad, others thought of me as the Devil. I wasn't any of those things, but I let them believe what they pleased. It never stopped me in being successful and hadn't ever affected me.
Being drawn out of my thoughts by little excited, yet absolutely annoying screams from a voice I knew all too well, I looked up to see my friend with a man. A man stood before her, one she would consider attractive while I would consider him uglier than a witch, held a candle out to her, asking her to be his. I rolled my eyes as she accepted it and remained in my corner. At least no one had spotted me yet and blown my cover. I continued to watch as girls were continuously being asked, until my eyes laid on a rather familiar blonde. Her name was Edith Cushing and she was a reporter. I had read a lot of her articles, but never fully became a fan of hers. Edith looked nervous in my eyes, but I could understand why. There were many men about and any girl would be nervous if they were off to find love.
