beauty behind the madness | the weeknd

1

Rose

I study my reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes are visible and my skin is ghostly pale. My eyes look tired and are slightly red.

Shit, I think to myself. If mum sees me like this, she'll kill me.

After all, I did tell her that the last time was the last time.

This whole summer break, she caught me sneaking in late, completely off my head. The night she found me passed out on the porch, she made me promise that was the last time. Heck, she even shortened my curfew!

That didn't stop me, though. I still managed to sneak out when she was sound asleep. How couldn't I? Neon - the underground nightclub - was addictive, fun. I could be a whole other person there - no one knew who I was, where I lived, what my name was.

I look back at my reflection now, sighing. I grab the eyeliner from the dressing table and quickly apply it and add some blusher to give my skin some colour. I lather some lipgloss on and smooth down my brown hair. There. I look better now.

Head pounding, I quickly pull on a red blouse and jeans before heading downstairs. Mum's already awake, wearing her work clothes. She sits at the table, blowing and sipping at her coffee.

When she hears my footsteps approaching, she looks up and then back down at her watch. "You woke up late," she states, matter-of-factly.

"I slept late," I quickly answer. She nods and squints. "I couldn't sleep, you know, since it's the first day back." I bite my lip, thinking I've blown my cover. Mum doesn't say anything. I hate when she does that. She knows, I think to myself. She knows that I snuck out last night.

And then she nods. I feel the weight come off my chest. "What's wrong with your eyes?" she questions. The weight comes back on my chest and my heart starts pounding. I feel sick. "They're red."

"They're itchy," I say as coolly as I can. "I think my hayfever's acting up."

Just when she's about to say something, her phone starts ringing. Thank God, I think to myself. I watch as she heads off into the living room, deep in conversation with the person at the other end. It's probably another client of hers - she works as a wedding planner. I honestly don't know how she does it: running from one place to another, making phone calls every hour of the day, meeting her clients' needs. I would go nuts.

I see this as my opportunity to run out the house without being questioned further about my red eyes. I tip toe out of the kitchen and grab my bag. Quietly, I open the door.

"Rose?" I hear her call out, making me jump out my skin. I turn around and she walks into the hallway, carrying a white box in one hand and her phone in the other. "Take these across the street."

"What? Why?" I ask, as she shoves the box in my hands.

"Someone new has moved in," she answers. She starts punching in a number on her phone.

I roll my eyes. "Mu-um!" I whine. "Can't you just give it? Why'd you have to get them - what is this? - muffins?"

She just waves her hands at me, as if saying "shut up." Huffing, I step out into the warm, September breeze and walk across the street. When I knock, my head starts pounding. No one answers. I knock again. Still no answer. Turning around on my heel, I start walking away.

"Can I help you?" a stern, male voice says from behind. I turn around to find a attractive, brown skinned man standing in the doorway. He's wearing a black shirt and jeans. He looks like he's in his late twenties, probably around twenty six. He raises his eyebrows and squints. "Well?"

I snap out my daze. "Oh, um," I start to say. I shake my head. "These are for you." I walk towards him and hold out the box and he takes it, looking suspiciously at it. "My mum always buys something for the new neighbours."

The man continues to stare. "Whats wrong with your eyes?" he wants to know.

I shrug. "Nothing," I reply.

The guy rakes a hand through his little affro. "Uh-huh," he says, squinting. "When people have red eyes it's either because they're ill of because they've taken something." He narrows his eyes now.

"It's nothing!" I snap and then bite my tongue. "I have to go." I turn on my heel and start speed walking away.

"Thanks for the muffins!" I hear him call out from behind and I roll my eyes.

When I'm about to turn the comer, I look back. The man is still standing there, watching me.