Escaping the cradle

1

Red lips.

She read somewhere, that the colour red had some psychological connection with either, a stronger attraction or higher probability of receiving money. Both outcomes were what she hoped to provoke.

It was the perfect look. Black, spider legs fanned out from her eyes. Her brown, doe eyes looked larger than normal thanks to the white eyeliner, giving her a pin-up doll look when it was paired with a cherry red, matte lipstick.

She took a deep breath, and stood.

"Oh my God." I took another breath "Fuck." I hissed. The room felt like a furnace; I couldn't breathe. My hair flared out like a cloak, as a flipped it over my shoulder and confronted my reflection. This was one of my favourite hairstyles, middle parting crochet braids that framed my face perfectly and I wasn't usually a fan of hair passed shoulder length, or black hair, but this worked. "He's definitely the lucky one."

This lifestyle really was like winning the lottery. Investing time and money in desperate hopes of reaping the benefits. But I had a good feeling about this one, a feeling so good I didn't want to ruin it with bad vibes and ill wishes, so I slipped my evil eye charm into my light wash, high-waisted jean pocket.

When judgement day comes I'm sure I'll be given a ticket to hell. My vanity never fails to overwhelm me as I again thank my mother and maker for creating such a goddess among men. An African goddess reborn, to live modern day where men still pay homage to worship me. I imagined a one of those boa constrictors around my chest as I still couldn't take a full breath. What can calm me down? I tuned back into my surroundings as I surveyed anything to calm my nerves. "dickhead." I started berating myself, gliding across my room and grabbing my phone as I realised I had been getting ready in silence. I could finally put this playlist to practical use, as I selected the song 'Red lips'- GTA skrillex remix.

A lot of people laugh at girls at a party who whine to any other music than bashment or soca, but the beginning of the song was in sync with my hips and no one was there to watch me as I envisioned dancing on a pole. The bass dropped along with my body as I giggled and danced without a care. After making weird faces in the mirror and lip syncing like I was performing, I caught my breath while reassessing myself. My cropped white shirt and hair was disarray from my imaginary performance and taking the time to think, reminded me of what I was anxious about. These were one of those times I wish I got the courage to ask Lauren for one of her shotter's number, I could really use weed right now to detach myself from the situation, but then I knew my caution to danger would be numbed. I considered taking a few shots of my mum's rum fruit punch since being tipsy would at least make me giggle and talk more, but then I thought it best not to considering I was already wearing nude court heels in the day time. I sighed. Million dollar man by Lana Del Ray came on, I sat down and swayed to the mellow rhythm while scrolling through our, hoping it would reinforce his enthusiasm to see me.

Time flew as I re-read how he constantly appraised me and eagerly answered all my questions; it was time to get a wriggle on. I analysed my appearance from all possible angles in all the mirrors in my room. Satisfied with my 'girl next door attire' and pin-up makeup, I collected my pastel coloured bag containing my makeup, earphones, small knife, keys and purse. While I walked downstairs I started my safety app on my phone and blew hair out of my mouth.

I paused to unlock the door with my key. Sunlight and heat bathed me as the door opened wider. I straightened my legs, lengthened my spine and tilted my chin upwards to readily receive the glory from the sun. No turning back now I stepped down to the path, closed the door and paused to lock the door with my key.

Hey guys! this is my first story and I'm so excited for this story, my english skills will finally come in handy loool.