Fatal Apptraction ✔️ (Complete)

The one with the confession

The flash from the cameras hit her face making her squint. Her hands came to rescue, trying hard to evade the strobe lighting. It used to make her feel dizzy but not anymore. She wasn't made for the glamour world; her life was simple. But life had a trick up it's sleeve and it played against her.

As Rose walked into the room full of interviewers, every head turned at the sound of her heels. She had that command over people. More than that, she knew how to attract attention. At the back of her mind, played over and again was the day she wore the abominable gown. The day that changed her life completely.

But today as she sat for her interview, her life would become an open book for the world to see. Breathing slowly she practiced her pre-ramp inhaling exercises. The world melted in the background engulfing the chaos along with it. All that remained was the sound of her heartbeats ringing in her ear and drumming in her chest.

Ready to face the world, she opened her eyes. The bright red eye of Sauron; her favorite Lord of the rings reference, was ready to destroy everything in its focus. Steadily, she nodded before it all started again. The flash from the cameras and the chaos.

Mouthpiece adjusted on her lapel, she spoke for her first ever interview. Sadly it was also her last. The room fell silent when her voice floated. Her own mouth felt dry. Running her tongue over her chapped plumpness, she tasted blood. She stopped sinking her teeth into her lips immediately. Her mind twitched the instance she held her phone for solace, the culprit in all this.

"Hi, I am Rose," her voice was soft and she was in command of the room. "Thank you all for coming." The voice continued as her eyes glistened with tears. Her manager, Hugh took command and pulled up a mic left for his disposal.

"We would be starting the questions." His voice was strong, clear. Although it hit her ears sharply, she didn't bother turning. Her eyes remained fixed on the people sitting in their allotments. "Please raise your hands."

The chairs dragged in the wake of the instructions. Every hand floated over the head. Hugh would decide who gets to pick the scabs first. Pointing to a woman, he nodded in affirmation. The lady in red dress and black blazer remained standing, everyone else settled. Hugh instructed her to continue.

"Hi Rose, I am Chelsea from the Post." She smiled at Rose. A genuine smile devoid of pity. "How are you feeling now?"

Rose nodded slowly. Her head felt heavy and her eyes were red from all the tears she shed. What hurt the most was the muscle beating in her chest. Her gesture was enough for the lady to continue. "Are you happy with the decision?"

She nodded again. Rose was happy with the court's ruling in her favor. When all hope was lost and articles pointed at an endless trial, a pro-bono pick of her case saved her. She would always be grateful to the legal system in the country for the rescue. But her nightmare was just beginning. The media trial awaited her crucifixion from the day she was bought in. They were hungry for blood.

Her blood.

And it shouldn't come as a surprise. She was the country's sweetheart. The world loved her for what she portrayed herself to be. A face of innocence, an epitome of purity. Rose was loved by all, especially the media. But projections could be false and deep underneath all the masks donned, she wore the truth like a shield. The truth only known to her.

"Are you ready to tell the world what happened?" the voice shot up, disapparating her thoughts. Her eyes stayed on the woman in red and black. Breathing became troubled as her mind began playing the past few months in a presentation slot, highlighting the major events, faces and memories.

"Yes I am ready to tell the world my story," her voice wavered and hands trembled fetching the bottled water which she wished to be poison. The world never would have known her story had she not been famous. But it was also the same fame which saved her from being rotten away.

Gulping down the cold liquid, her throat hurt. It seemed like ages since her mouth consumed anything cold. The food she received was always warm, tasteless and sticky, most of which was hurled away in frustration. Memories of captivity came rushing back.

Hugh held her hand from under the table; her moral support in all this. Her friend and philosopher; her brother. She closed her eyes and opened them slowly like a cat's kiss of adoration, devotion. Her trembling hands found grounding. She channeled his confidence inside her body. Her nervousness faded away making way for adrenaline induced strength.

Sets of mics laid on the table in color coordination, blacks from the feminist organizations on one extreme and colors from the media on the other; a sad reminder of organizational discrimination. She pulled her mouthpiece off the lapel and leaned forward on the table.

Everything calmed down. It was the silence before the storm. The darkness before lightening. 

A smile broke through her before confession.

"I am Rose Matthew and I am here to tell my story," her voice seemed grounded and her profile looked confident. Inside she was a screaming, scared. The next words would resonate forever in her body and mind. The confession that she stated everywhere. "I did not kill them. Any of them.."

~~~

Author's notes

Dearies,

Did you enjoy this chapter?

If yes, please do let me know in the comments and do vote for it.

Asides, constructive criticism is welcome too.

As this is my first short story, do let me know me know if the pace needs slowing of fastened. Don't worry about the length of the chapter. It will increase from next chapter on.

Happy reading

Love

S