Au

Chapter 1

Her hand rested on the cool glass of the floor to ceiling window as she overlooked the nightly view offered by her million dollar apartment. The sky was clear, not a single cloud concealed the sparkle of the stars that were dimmed only by the ever present Parisian city lights. The moon was full and white, its iridescent light bathed her naked body creating a picture out of shadows on her bare skin. Iris took a sip from her glass, the semi-sweet wine burning her tongue with a pleasant ardour before she swallowed and it heated her body from the inside out. Her latest boy toy came up from behind her, his body just as bare as hers, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He proceeded to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, savouring in the feel of her warm chocolaty skin against his lips and she simply took another sip of her drink, completely unfazed.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered on to her shoulders but she seemed unmoved by the compliment. With her stare trained on the cityscape bellow she simply said,

"It's getting late." Eddie knew what that meant, it was time for him to leave. It didn't surprise him but even after months of this back and forth ritual between them it still hurt him to know that to her he was nothing more than a sex toy. He quietly moved away from her and made his way up the stairs to get dressed. As always he didn't bother saying goodbye, he couldn't say goodbye, not to her. She was like a drug to him, no matter how much she hurt him he'd always come running back when she called. That's why he couldn't say goodbye, he wasn't done with her yet.

Iris waited until she heard the door close to let her guard down. She didn't do that often but today she made an exception. She had too much on her mind to keep her walls up. With a partially full bottle of red in one hand and her glass in the other she made her way up to her suite. She showered, washing away the tension from her stressed muscles along with the sweat of her late night activities. Wrapped in nothing but a satin robe, she settled down in her bed and drank her way through half the bottle without so much as a minor buzz. She opened her side table drawer and from it took out a black, rectangular picture frame. Her fingers caressed the glass that held a picture of a younger less, damaged version of her, standing next to a kind faced older man. Grandpa West. The only reason why there's still any shred of humanity left in her. She smiled, as happy memories played out in her mind and this time she didn't stop the tears from flowing.

This was her one moment of vulnerability. The only minute of grief she would allow herself to have before she withdrew back into her safety shell and locked away her emotions from the world. This world that had chewed her up and spat her out on countless occasions and now it took away the one person that made her life livable.
Elvis West was a type of hero to her. He saved her from the crippling grasp of the foster system she was under and gave her a life fit for a princess. Now, like everything and everyone else in her life, he was gone. No wonder she didn't open up to the possibility of new relationships. Her father didn't want her, her mother died giving birth to her and every foster family she went to, succeeded in making her feel less than human. Grandpa West was the last person she ever showed genuine affection towards and nothing on Earth could ever make her open up again. Love wasn't worth the pain it caused.

She fell asleep with that picture held tight against her chest, the empty bottle of wine rested on the nightstand and her pillow was bathed in her tears. The next morning she took the family jet to Central City for the memorial. The man was sentimental and his birth town held a special place in his heart. As she looked out the window at the tiny town below she remembered the countless stories he'd shared with her at bed time about how he met his one true love. Grandma Esther. Iris didn't get to know her all that much. She had recently passed away when Grandpa West took her in so the only impression she had of the woman came from the many tales he'd tell. He spoke fondly of her and when he did she noticed that he's eyes had a certain quality about them as he stared into oblivion completely lost in thought. As a girl she'd dreamed that she'd find someone who would look at her with those same eyes but time and knowledge wiped away that childish fantasy. True love was just a myth that man kind made up to silence their fear of being alone and make they're animal like desires less shameful. It was an excuse used to answer the existential crisis of the more gullable who believed that a cerebral chemical reaction was good enough a reason to live. Pathetic.