oh, anna [-hs]

hoax

Grace tried to get me a stylist for tonight but I told her I didn't want one. Emma's going to style me. She's very excited. She flew all the way to LA with me just for this.

She flits here and there, dancing around me and ruffling bits of my dress. It's black and layered in sheer fabric. Two large silver crosses hang from my ears. Three rings adorn my right hand. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, charcoal smeared over my eyelids. My lips are velvet red. I look terrifying, cold, dark.

"You are a force to be reckoned with, baby," Emma runs her hand over the back of my dress. I wince a little at the pet name. Ever since my fight with Harry, the word has left a strange pain in my chest. Emma's head pops up behind my shoulder. She grins.

"Thank you."

She tucks her chin deeper into my shoulder and plays with a strand of my hair. "You're going to win, twice."

"I can't win twice, I'm nominated twice in the same category," I laugh, but it's hollow.

"Fuck that. You'll win twice in my heart" Emma huffs and pulls away. I feel cold without her body touching mine. I'm so empty. I'm so desperate for her touch, anyone's at this point.

I can't go fuck someone else right now though. That would prove his point. That would put me on his level.

But I want Wes so badly.

"Grammys," Emma sings comically, digging through her jewelry case. I chuckle.

"If you give me any more silver I'm going to sink into the floor."
She pouts at me. "Just one more," she begs, lifting a little ring out from the piles of metal.

"Fine," I roll my eyes. She skips to me and slips it on my finger before I can protest any further.

It's a thin silver band, the signet of a full moon branded in the center. I stare down at it, molded to my pinky finger. It's so small, but fits perfectly with the grooves of my knuckle.

"Like your moon tattoo," she stares at my hand. "I know you got it because of me."

"I did," my eyes flicker up to her hairline. She creases her forehead in concentration, and reaches out to trace the metal with her fingertip.

"Because we would sit on the fire escape and stare up at it. And talk about all sorts of things. When I couldn't sleep."

"I used to get nightmares too--"

"--about the overdose for me. About Danny for you."

"It's really pretty, Emma," I squeeze her arm. She swallows.

"Good. I'm glad you like it."

She steps away and plasters on a smile, looking me over one last time.

"Killer."

I laugh. "Thank you."

"Go scare the shit out of that red carpet."

I try my best. As soon as I step out of the car, the lights are strobing from behind the velvet rope. I think this is the first time I've ever wanted to be photographed by these people. In the past, they've usually bombarded me and Harry and ruined our night.

But here I am, alone, dressed like death. It's fitting, I feel like I'm mourning in a way. I straighten out my face. I glare down the barrels of their cameras.

"Quinn!---"

"--wearing tonight?"

"How was your vacation with---"