Genetic Perfection ( Repo! the Genetic Opera Fanfiction)

Doomsday

Chapter 30 - Doomsday

I gazed into the mirror, observing the scar on my face which was less inflamed now but still red. My tousled hair was a mess and the bold black eyeliner accentuated my eyes. I was eager to shatter the image Gene.Co had sculpted for me, I needed the public to perceive me as a leader.

A hangover from the whisky I consumed last night was causing my head to throb, my tolerance for alcohol was low. However, I couldn't place the blame on the alcohol for my actions last night. At the very least, I had the realization that I was messed up and something was not quite right in me.

"Malta," Henna voiced as she walked into the room carrying a dress box. Her fiery red hair flowed freely, not restrained in its usual ponytail. "I brought you something."

"For me?" My eyes fell onto the box as she handed it to me. It was from the tailor.

"I figured a queen needed a dress," she responded, observing me with anticipation.

I relocated to the bed and sat down, this made it easier to unbox the gift. As I lifted the lid and peeled back the tissue paper, my jaw slackened. She had bought me the black dress I had been eyeing at the store.

"Henna," I uttered, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm speechless!"

"Don't say anything, just wear it and show them who's in charge," she winked at me. "You deserve the world, Malta."

"Thank you, Henna," I responded, leaping to my feet and discarding my clothes in excitement.

Slipping the dress on, I felt a wave of confidence wash over me, the kind that comes from embracing your true identity.

The black dress clung to my form like a second skin, accentuating each contour and highlighting the right places. It was a bold choice, with a deep neckline and a high slit that left little to the imagination. The cold chains encircling the bust area added a royal touch.

I ran my fingers through my disheveled hair, deciding to leave it wild and free. The thick black eyeliner was still smeared around my eyes, adding a smoky and enigmatic allure. I gazed into the mirror once again, and this time, I saw a woman who was unapologetically herself. A woman who refused to be defined by others' expectations.

Henna observed me with a playful spark in her eyes, fully understanding what this dress symbolized for me. She grasped that it wasn't just about the physical transformation, but the mental shift it represented. It was a statement of defiance against the expectations and restrictions imposed upon me by the Largos.

"You look powerful," Henna noted, playing with my hair and examining me.

I smirked at Henna's comment, feeling a surge of desire and rebellion rushing through me. "Powerful is an understatement," I retorted, my voice brimming with confidence. "In this dress, I feel unstoppable. Like a queen ready to claim her rightful place on the throne."

Henna's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer, her breath tickling my ear. "Oh, Malta, you have no idea how alluring you look right now. I want to experience that power."

She always knew how to make me feel special. I cherished the attention and genuine care she provided. She was a good friend, and I didn't want to jeopardize that. But after last night, I felt a tad conflicted about indulging my desires. I craved attention, and Henna was more than capable of providing it.

"We should get ready," Henna whispered in my ear, before slipping out of the room.

I put on my black jacket, and took one final glance in the mirror. It was time.

As I made my way through the corridor, the air was dense, almost suffocating with the weight of my impending departure. The hallways were eerily silent, as if the house itself was aware of the upcoming events. The paintings on the walls seemed to watch me, their eyes tracking my every move. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret for leaving the only place I had ever known as home.