Afire Love

twenty three

Chapter twenty three: I Bet My Mascara Is Totally Ruined

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"'Cause you make me feel like

I could be driving you all night,

And I'll find your lips in the streetlights,

I wanna be there with you ooh"

~Run Away With Me, Carly Rae Jepsen.

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THE ALARM BUZZES directly into my ears, interrupting my deep - and tranquil - slumber. I morosely lift the heavy blanket off my legs, and stifle my yawn sloppily.

I drag my body forcibly out from the bed, and look at myself in the mirror. I splash cold water on my face, dabbing it with a towel.

I place both my hands on the dresser, leveling my eyes to the girl on the reflecting surface, whose eyes are vehemently burning like an inferno - with fear or hope, I don't know, although I should.

A new beginning. A new start.

That is exactly what I want. And New Year's Eve is all about it. It's that time of the year when people make new resolutions, when couples make promises that are not meant to be broken, when children make dandelion wishes. It's just the right and perfect time for a new beginning.

I'm clinging onto the hope, like it might tear me apart any moment from now, like it's my only chance to sculpt myself into a person that I've always yearned to be. And I'm going to start now. I'm going to be someone that my dad would be proud of.

Shaking my profound thoughts off my head, I walk into the bathroom.

I strip myself slowly and carefully, turning on the tap, and the hot water falls rhythmically into the bathtub.

After removing the clothes off my body, I step into the tub. Warm water sends pleasant impulses through my head, and I slowly immerse myself. I scrub my body, and then apply shampoo to my hair, massaging a little on my temples.

Apart from all the mess lately, the biggest mistake I've committed is forgetting that I had a life of my own. Love, emotions and fun are secondary. My future depends on the talents I possess, and in no time, I'll have to take over the entire Stryder National Industry.

My head throbs, and I close my eyes, chanting the same reassuring mantra that I've gotten used to - everything will be okay.

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I SQUEEZE MYSELF into my red dress, which tapers at my waist and sticks to my body, distinctly showing my curves away. The dress cups my shoulders, and the deep hemline of my waist coat just hangs above my waist. The dress reaches my knees, and I apply the body lotion smoothly to my legs and hands.