His Paper Heart ✓

•27|His Powerful Goddess (The Girl In The Black Dress)

I WAS IN THE BATHROOM CRYING FOR OVER THIRTY MINUTES. I felt drained, lost, worthless. That girl, the other side of me that could talk back, I wish I knew. I wondered where she came from? So suddenly, she swept in to my aid and said some brave things. Her posture was different. Even her voice. Everything about her seemed so alien to me. She was my hero. She was everything I ever hoped to be. She was a voice, not just an echo. So I sat on the bathroom floor and thought about the girl in the black dress with her red hair, deep as crimson, standing on ankle heels, fighting back. I wish I saw her face when she stood head to head with her demons. I wish I saw the confidence as the words left her lips.

But all I did was sit there on the cold floor, damp with toilet water, contemplating what suicide meant.

Was it going to stop the pain? I guess it would. Then I thought, what about the others? How would my twin sister feel? My mother would be broken. What about Alleya? Wouldn't that teach her that fighting for your worth meant nothing. That everything they all said was wrong. The monsters always won. Us preys, we just existed as food for the predators. That was our purpose, to exist.

I concluded, that suicide doesn't stop the pain, it just passed it on to someone else.

It didn't take long after that when realization hit me, the girl in the black dress was familiar, so familiar that it could be me. That's why I couldn't see her face. She was me. She was still there. The powerful, self-actualized goddess. So I got up and cleaned myself with the sink water and tissues. The dress, though was ruined and I was sure Didi would never let me hear the end of it. Cleaning the wet mascara and makeup from the cheeks didn't take long. One of the female guests that walked into the bathroom  was kind enough to find me a waitress who took me out to the waiters' quarters to take a shower. She apologized for not having any decent clothes around, just an oversized hoodie that stopped right on my thigh but I was thankful.

So here I am, walking in Didi's heels in the baronial hall with a strong gait of model closing a Chanel runway show, heading towards the monsters grouped with a couple of rich folks' kids, my pain probably a source of their amusement. I scoop out my surroundings from the faces of rich personages giggling and talking among themselves to the half glass of whiskey in Gray's hand as he asks around, thoughtfully searching for me. He taught me never to punch with my thumb locked away in my fist. It's now or never to test that theory. 

Bailey notices me first and says, "Gigi, you look decent."

"Oh really?" I force a smile. "Thank you."

I launch a hard blow in his nose and he goes crashing to the ground, hearing an overall gasp from the audience. Despite the thrill of victory, there is still a certain hollowness about it. He wasn't alone. So another vessel in me is about to burst. Knox looks confused for a second when I grab his shoulders and as I kick him in his groin, he's shocked, then in pain then he joins his friend on the ground. They say to never hit a girl but what if the girl hits you without remorse? Respect should be earned, no matter the gender, race, sexuality. That shit should be earned, not given because you're a woman or man, white or black, straight or gay. I hit her, groaning as I do so with so much force I might have broken her cheekbone but it feels good. Her eyes instantly fills with tears as she gasps, her hands laying on her cheek.

I feel amazing as I strut back to Gray with the adrenaline level of an elite marathon runner. He is proud, I can tell by his posture and probably scared to death to ever cross me — the girl in the black dress. I don't want her to ever leave. I take the glass of tequila out of his hand and smile.

"Wanna get out of here?" I bring the glass to my lips and take a mouthful of the alcohol. It burns my mouth, like a thousand bee stings on my tongue. Why do people like this stuff? I slowly spit the mouthful back into the glass with my face wrinkled and clear my throat as Gray smirks when I hand it back to him.