The Wrong Man

Chapter 1 - "Bloody pixie-like feet"

Chapter 1

I stared into the mirror, analysing my reflection and critiquing my appearance. Green beady eyes stared back at me, piercing into my soul. Long brown curls interweaved their way down to the small of my back. There it was all 5” 6 of me.

My silver diamond pendant lay between the valley of my breasts. It was a present from my father, one of my only cherished gifts, given to me for countless promises made and broken. I treasured it, like a young girl treasures her most favourite doll. Diamond studs adorned my ears, simple yet elegant. A conservative cream dress wrapped around my body, reaching my knees and sharp heels inflicted pain on my toes. Perfect, as my mother would say. Just perfect.

However, upon a closer look, you could see my forced smile, hidden behind tight pursed lips. I could just feel the judging glares that would soon be coming my way.

Oh Evangeline, you should have worn these earrings.

Evangeline, you should have worn that dress, cream is so not your colour.

Darling, those shoes are so last year.

Evangeline, that make-up! Let me give you my beauty therapist number, that lady can wipe that muck off your face.

To reach perfection was a hard chore.

Years and years of those types of comments fell on heavy ears. People visiting for dinner parties or staying as guests took it upon themselves to take me upon their wing, not that it was wanted in the first place. Years of pent-up frustrations were building up inside of me and I wasn’t sure for how much longer I could hold on.

In fact, I could already hear my mother’s harsh words that would soon be whispered into my ear as I came downstairs. It was a dinner I had been dreading for days.  A heavy weight fell on my shoulders as I could feel the direness of the situation. It felt like there was a storm approaching, one that I could not control, one that I had no power over. It felt like waves were hurtling towards me at full speed, ready to crash into me and I was powerless to move. It felt so raw, alarming and distressing that it almost knocked the breath out of me. That was a feeling; I wished to never feel again.

“Eva, mom and dad are waiting downstairs. You better hurry, you don’t want to upset the ice queen” my brother sneered out. I jumped at the sound, alarmed at the voice. I think he hated our mother more than I did. Dante was the youngest brother in the family; however he was still older than me. Everyone was older than me, which was why they babied me and thought it was best to make decisions for me until I was of suitable age to marry, as my mother had put it.

My brother stepped into my room and assessed my appearance, just as how my mother would do it when I reached the last step at the bottom of the stairs.

“Not bad. Ice queen on the other hand is another story” Dante grinned back. Dante was favourite brother (I know you aren’t meant to have favourites, but he was my favourite), he let me have my own voice and allowed me to join him on his adventures. I was always closest to Dante; I think it was because we share a common hatred for our mother. My older siblings, Xander and Jayden despised my mother, but they didn’t hate her. They shared a mutual agreement about social class and etiquette. For them, money, class and looks were everything. We were a family that came from old money, and anybody not fitting that criterion was below them. They liked to live the high life of trophy girls, lavish clothes and fast sports cars.