Chapter 4: Pain

Two words. Just two words was all I needed to take what's rightfully mine.

But here I am hesitating.

“I agree,” I whispered. “I'll do anything, just give it to me.”

She smirked. “Good. Then go dress up,” she continued, her eyes fixed on mine. “Clara, you will help her with that.”

I nodded weakly, leaving for my room, and Clara followed behind me.

My fists clenched by my side. God knows how much I want to beat Clara up for what she did.

I opened my door and Clara did the same with hers.

She entered. But I still stayed there, my gaze burning into her back.

Clara had taken everything from me; hope, my happiness and solace. And yet she was acting like a saint.

I entered my room, and slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the walls of the room.

My eyes found the mirror almost immediately.

The girl staring back at me looked broken, defeated, hopeless and like an object that was sold.

And the words made my chest tighten.

I sat on the edge of the bed, and buried my face in my hand.

How had my life gotten this bad?

A few weeks ago, I had a boyfriend, I had dreams and I had hope.

Now, I was being handed over to a stranger like some kind of business transaction.

One thing was for sure—

“Knock, knock” A sharp knock interrupted my train of thoughts.

Before I could answer, Clara walked in carrying several dresses.

A makeup box rested in one hand while three expensive-looking dress bags hung from the other.

Without asking for permission, she dropped everything onto my bed.

I looked at the pile and frowned.

"What is all this?"

She rolled her eyes. "What does it look like?"

I clenched my jaw.

For someone who had ruined my life, she sure acted comfortable around me.

"Mom wants you looking presentable."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Presentable?"

"Yes. Believe it or not, not everyone wants to look at a walking disaster."

I shot her a glare.

She only smirked.

The urge to slap that expression off her face grew stronger by the second.

Instead, I remained silent.

Clara unzipped one of the bags and pulled out a dark emerald dress.

The dress looked so stunning and elegant.

Even I had to admit it was beautiful.

“This one.” Clara chose.

I stared at the dress.

A few weeks ago, I would've been excited to wear something like that. But now it felt like a prison uniform.

It was like a reminder that I was being handed over to a complete stranger.

"Try it on," Clara ordered.

But I didn't move.

Then she sighed dramatically.

"Stop acting like you're being marched to your execution."

Execution?

That word was too good to even describe my situation right now.

At least people on their way to execution knew what was waiting for them.

But I didn't. All I knew was that he was dangerous, and my future was no longer mine.

"Well?" Clara asked impatiently. "Are you going to stand there all day?"

I took the dress from her hand.

The emerald fabric felt delicate beneath my fingers.

"Good." Clara nodded. "Now hurry up and put it on.”

I disappeared into the bathroom with the dress. A few minutes later, I stepped back into my room.

Clara looked up from where she was sitting. For a moment, her eyes widened.

But the expression vanished almost immediately.

The dress fit me perfectly.

Of course it did.

I'm sure Veronica had planned all of this before she told me.

“Sit,” Clara ordered, but I didn't move.

"Sit," she repeated.

Reluctantly, I lowered myself onto the chair in front of the mirror.

For the next hour, the room remained silent. Neither of us talked and it was for the better.

Only the clattering sound of the make up brushes echoed through the room.

Every now and then, I caught Clara looking at me through the mirror.

She didn't look at me with pity or guilt but with satisfaction. Like she was enjoying every second of this.

Of course she will.

When she finally stepped back, she crossed her arms.

"There."

I slowly lifted my eyes toward the mirror.

For a moment, I didn't recognize the woman staring back at me.

The emerald dress hugged my figure perfectly, bringing out every curve in my body.

My hair fell in soft waves around my shoulders.

The makeup she applied was subtle, yet elegant.

I looked…beautiful.

And somehow that made me feel like an item to be sold.

“Knock! Knock!”

The sharp sound of the knock echoed through the house.

My entire body turned rigid.

A smirk appeared on her lips. "They're here."

Clara bent down and reached beneath the bed. When she stood up again, she was holding a shoebox.

She placed it on the bed and opened it.

My breath caught.

Inside was a pair of emerald-green heels. It was the same shade as the dress I was wearing.

"Put them on," Clara said.

My gaze landed at the shoes, then at her. "Seriously?"

"What?" she asked. "Did you plan on going barefoot?"

I clenched my jaw, and without another word, I picked up the heels.

Carefully, I slipped them on.

When I stood up, the extra height made the dress fall perfectly around me.

I hated how perfect everything looked on me, because it made me feel like an item that's polished to be sold.

Clara stepped back and looked at me. A satisfied smirk played on her lips, because her job here was done.

"There."

She grabbed the makeup box and closed it.

"Now let's go.”