Southern Belle

Ch. 25 You Cared

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This was the sickest thing I had ever seen.

Pictures of Elise were located around the room in chronological order. And these pictures weren't to display Elise's modeling talent.

"October 10, 2010: Elise goes to rehab for drug addiction. Mommy tells everyone she's studying abroad." 

Below that line, there was a black and white picture of Elise with a few other girls in a grungy bathroom.  Her eyes, slightly hazed, were staring straight at the line of drug she had on a piece of paper. The two other girls' faces were blacked out, but I could tell they were females by their ensemble.

And the pictures went on and on. There must've been at least twenty or thirty photos depicting the private tragedies of Elise Monroe. A few pictures down, I saw a caption that caught my eye:

"Word spreads that Elise Monroe had an affair with her father's best friend, at least twenty years older than her. Ten days later, Elise attempts to kill herself."

A long sigh escaped my lips. She was more screwed up than I thought. Scanning the room, I realized that most of the population here seemed to enjoy her misery. They were laughing and grinning, like this was some sort of joke. Like this was some sort of game.

I had to find Meg to end this.

Scanning the room, I looked for my revenger. She probably was dancing in victory right now since Elise was brought to tears by her actions. In a few seconds, I caught sight of her signature paisley scarf and sprinted towards her.

"Meg," I coughed out, "you have to take these down. They're absolutely embarrassing." I put my hand up to my pounding heart.

Her eyes rolled. "Nah, I think it's fine. It really shows her true colors."

"It shows your true colors, too!" I spat back, crossing my arms over my chest. The loudness of my voice caused all the commotion in the room to seize, and the crowd turned in our direction.

She growled, "She ruins lives. It's time that someone teaches her a lesson. Anyways, I thought we were in this together!"

The ends of my lips tilted downwards. She was right--I had promised to help her out on the revenge plan. However, I realized that if we fought fire with fire, we would just get burned. Plus it was extremely childish to resort to Elise's level.

Gulping, I squeaked, "You're a disgrace." Blood rushed up my neck, and my face turned into a tomato. My hands gripped the sides of my pants to restrain my hands from smacking that stupid, cocky expression off of her head.

"You're not better."

Shooting her the middle finger, I ran away before I did something I could regret. The viewing debuted about an hour ago, and Elise left the gallery before I could say something to her. Wheezing as my feet flew off the ground, I silently begged God to let me find her to explain everything. And before she went to Nick and told him what happened.

Panting, I paused as I placed my hands onto my knees for support. Athleticism wasn't my thing, and all this running was taking a toll on my body. With the back of my arm, the pool of sweat was wiped off of my forehead, and I continued on my way to my dorm.

Oh God, Elise. What have I done?

As I neared my room, snippets of conversations made their way into my ear. Some were irrevelant to today's events, but some were about the gallery.