Dark and light: The Shadows

Anya's Recall Chapter 37

TW: Graphic buildup. mentions harm of different sorts
If you want to retain your image of Anya bring untainted, you best not read this chapter.

"What's something that makes you excited?"

I refocused on the road. Jeri was humming beside me, applying makeup as we went to the venue. I checked mine, and the light changed that very moment. I tapped Jer on her shoulder so she wouldn't mess up her mascara when I peeled after the car that was in front.

My response would've been doing art in any form if you asked a few years ago,

"Are you ready to sit around some snobby people?" I joked.

"No, but hey, you said connection opportunities, and I LOVE relishing people's amazement when they see you dance or act. Or model. Wait, this is for modelling, right? Oh, girl, you're gonna meet someone FINE there." She squealed the last portion.

"I'm not ready for another partner, a fling maybe but I-"

"You? a fling? C'mon Ann, I love you, and I also know that you love hard. Swan like. You're dreamy. I'd get you a fairyland to live in to keep you from the evil on earth."

She elbowed me as we both chuckled. I felt a crack in mine. That last statement...

I almost missed the turn and heard the tyres screech slightly.

"Oh, girl, I don't mean to offend you, I was joking."

I felt her gaze on me. She felt sincere. I'd manipulate the energy around me if I didn't need to focus so hard on the venue's route.

"You're ok. I'd love that, honestly... Life feels so crazy Lately." I muttered the last part.

She muttered an 'I know' with a tsk, going back to her makeup as I purposefully drove slower on this slow traffic road.

I so badly wanted to say, 'No, you don't.'

--- this gets mature--TW:Hematolagnia-dacnolagnomania-

I sat at the makeup station, waiting for the hairstylist to finish installing my wig. I didn't want to mess up my hair with another flat ironing. This was my third runway for the month. Touch-ups on curly hair can be so taxing.
I glanced at Jeri, possibly texting Salia or her mom. I should text my mom. I had already informed her I was here. Then I looked at my arm. The flesh-toned tape covered up what I was healing from last night. I didn't know how I'd explain that to Jeri if she walked in on me.

Now, my answer is torture and art... If I torture myself through art or by making art torturing someone.

And making them forget about it.

I reflected as I walked the catwalk. Jeri gave me a thumbs-up from the side. Beside her, Eva also gave a supportive smile. She was here for herself, and on behalf of my sister, who had an appointment, the ob-gyn could not reschedule.

And I thought of him. Fire. It gassed me up to put as much pump in my step... Shalom Harlow... So that more applause would surround me.

He didn't like our meetup spot, but anywhere else would've been a dead giveaway. He wasn't comfortable with the methods I had in mind. That I -made us- try. And he didn't like that I wouldn't let him back with me for what he did. But a dead man doesn't have an opinion, right?

I changed into the next outfit for the next segment, feeling more in the mood for it. My stomach was growling, but that flame of satisfaction satiated it. The designer for the next section requested we gather for a group picture. I was in the first line with him, but I squatted nonetheless, knowing the shoes were causing me to tower over a couple of people behind me. They had beautiful faces and outfits, and we'd have to take our individual pictures anyway.