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INNA
When a child, all dream of being a princess.
Sorry, I'm not an exception to this rule. Like most, I wished to meet a prince, a knight in shining armor who would whisk me away from my dull existence.
Since I'm quite realistic, I gave up on the rumblings of a delusional teen, but now as La Crim opens its doors to us, a spark of hope flickers.
The castle's doors are at least 10ft tall, the Fifty States hit our ears, and I don't regret having left the concert.
Like at the arena, guards are everywhere. They bow their heads as they see Tarnish. She turns and glares at Aurora.
"Ouch, Aurora, what are you doing?"
A sensation close to one of a wavelength sweeps over me.
"It doesn't suit your outfit. Don't you want to look your best?"
I have never taken off my pendant, and I feel naked. The shell-like piece of jewelry in my hand gleams. Without a second thought, I shove it in my shorts pocket. It's a one-shot; one night without the pendant won't kill me. I mean, it's not like my parents are here to scold me.
Tarnish tilts her head rapidly twice to her side, and I swear her dark eyes roll like a casino slot machines before Twista regains her neck, and she gives me the kind of vile smile you only on the devil.
We arrive in the big Chamber nightclub, where, as promised, Jesus sits on an elegant red velvet sofa in the middle of the room. It's incredible, the man is clean and dressed to party. One can't distill an ounce of fatigue.
The lights are dim, and everyone apart from the waiters in circulation has that lucent spectrum in their eye.
Jesus stands and turns around to face every stare as he says, "nu vă atingeți de ei. The fest is mine; defiance shall be your death."
A hissing sound fills the room, and the cat's eyes fade into the darkness. One has to admit the ambiance somewhat a chiller driller. I mean, we're in a real castle with gothic decor. You know the true medieval style remixed with some 21st-century touches. Jesus approaches and grabs my hand, and kisses my knuckles. He then turns to bow in a curtsey in front of Aurora, "ladies." he takes us by the hands and leads us to his couch, where women scatter to leave us space.
Aurora leans to whisper, "what a gentleman."
"Milady, I hope the journey was not rough."
In all the world, Jesus' attitude has nothing to do with what I expected. I mean, WTFusilli, where's the sin in this?
He smiles as though he heard and turns. He examines me with his stare, and for some reason, I find myself touching my neck. Why do I feel so vulnerable without myㅡ?
