Unmarked

22. Realisations

A sheer shimmering translucent dress hugs my body, displaying the jewel-encrusted underwear I'm wearing.

A lot more of my skin is on show compared to last night. I'm dreading the outfits for tomorrow and the night after if this is the speed at which we're going to be exposing more of my skin.

My hair is twisted high up on my head, embellished with glitter and jewels. Tendrils of hair frame my face which has been highlighted and contoured. I didn't think it was possible, but myappearance is worse than yesterday. I look horrendous.

"You look gorgeous. This is my best work yet." Rena claps her hands in self-congratulation.

"I look like the demented offspring between a sex doll and a disco ball," I say flatly.

"You should be more appreciative of my work. I have been slaving away for hours to make you look this good which is hard when there's almost nothing to work with," Rena spits.

"I look ridiculous." I turn away from the mirror.

"No, the clothes you were wearing earlier looked ridiculous. You looked like a child who raided the lost property box at school whereas this outfit enhances your plain blank canvas of a body. You should be thanking me. I've made you look fabulous."

"Thanking you?" I shout. "Why would I thank you for making me more appealing to a bunch of buyers Lars is trying to auction me off to? I don't want to be here, and I'm not going to pretend this looks good to increase you're already overinflated ego."

"Your predicament is not my fault. Blame your parents for not getting you a Birth Brand and some marks. This ugly bare skin, the fact you have no connections or history to show for yourself is their doing. Your parents must have really hated you to set you up with a future with no prospects," Rena retorts.

"My mum had no choice," I hiss.

"Everyone has a choice. Unfortunately for you, most choose the one that benefits them." Rena shakes her head in pity. "If I was to guess, your mother was hiding from the Officials. Therefore your lack of Birth Brand is due to your mother protecting herself, nothing more and nothing less."

I want to argue back, to defend my mum but Rena's words sting with a hint of truth. I can't deny my thoughts have occasionally drifted along the same route. That's the only logical conclusion. Part of me always believes my mum could have organised some way for me to get a Birth Brand when I was born, to allow me a life and a future but she didn't. She put herself first.

"Poor girl. You need to learn the only person you can rely on is yourself because when things get bad; when it's a life or death situation, people only look after themselves." Rena pats me on the back.

She is right. More often than not, our instincts are based on self-preservation. A ball of anger ignites inside me because all of this leads back to one birth brand, one marking my mum should have organised for me.

The anger, however, is quickly extinguished when I remember all the times she protected me and everything my mum has done to reduce the chances of me being caught, when she was sober at least. When intoxicated, my mum's actions have been somewhat questionable.

The audience stares at me, the lights overheat my body as the evening passes by slowly. Maintaining my position on the throne, I carefully scan the crowd, looking for the man from last night. I don't see him. Maybe, he decided to stay clear. I'm doubtful, he's most likely lurking in the numerous dark shadows.

I'm supplied with a continuous supply of drinks whilst Lars sweeps the room, meeting and greeting various people, gesturing wildly with his thick sausage finger hands. Drumming up business as Grey would say. The thought makes me feel sick.