Shattered Vows

September 7th

some women fear the fire

some women simply become it

- r. h. sin

September Seventh:

The mascara rimming her long eyelashes makes her eyes pop out brilliant ocean blue, swimming in warm sun-lit currents. Infinite hues illumined by the gold flecks Fay apply in the inner ducts of her oval-shaped eyes. Her deep brown curls are threaded with strands of auburn tendrils, coiling to a point just above her shoulder. Her sharp cheekbones dusted rose, her full pink lips glossed over with shimmer.

    "You look stunning," Fay gasps, dropping the makeup wand. Looking into the mirror, Juliette nearly doesn't recognize herself.

    Standing before her was a captivating girl whose eyes shone with excitement and a slight danger. Her soft, golden-brown skin complements the scarlet red shirt that hugs the curvature of her body. The girl in the mirror is assertive, not riddled with darkness but wielding a force of the same strength. The girl in the mirror was clever and deceiving, warranting a glance from everyone in the room.

    Somehow she knows it is her hiding under the layers of extravagant attire.

    However, the clothing feels like new skin. It lets Juliette pretend, even if just for the night, that she is someone else entirely. The prospect of this intrigued her, and that yearning scared her. Like Cinderella, it was all a façade, and at the end of the night, she would return to just being herself.

    "I can feel you overthinking," Fay says softly. "You look hot, embrace it and stop worrying about the what-ifs."

     "It's just- this is not me," Juliette moans, looking over herself once again. What startles her isn't just the clothing but how much she resembles her mother.

    "Let loose for one night," Fay smiles malevolently.

    A week is all it took for her to corrupt Juliette into going against all her morals. Something about the way Fay spoke has you convinced before her words thoroughly process. It's in the way her green eyes flared than narrowed in. As if almost challenging you to go against her.

    "I've never been to a party," Juliette admits. Unless the ones my mother threw when I was asleep in the other room count.

    "Well, it's a good thing we met then," Fay beams. "Besides, I need you to stop me from making impulsive decisions." She moves across the room towards the open wardrobe, her movements fluid. The way she walks is almost more like she's gliding, her footsteps soundless.

    Over the week, Juliette noted little things about Fay. For one, she doesn't enjoy people looming behind her. If one of the other girls in the house was positioned behind her back, Fay would step to the side, so she no longer feels their presence. She also has perfect hearing. Fay will whisper to Juliette which girl is walking down the hall in the middle of the night based on the heaviness of their footsteps. She can tell you where in the house people are just by focusing all her attention on listening.

    Each of these little things only made up the puzzle of Fay's past, which she'd made it a point not to talk about.

    "And what am I stopping you from doing?" Juliette smirks. She sits down on her bed, crossing her ankle over the other. Fay moves around the opposite end of the room, frantically searching for something.

    Juliette's side of the room is uncluttered. Her bed is made up every morning under her routine, and only a few books litter the floor by where she sleeps. On the other hand, Fay's end of the room is a cataclysm. Clothing, amongst other things, litters the wooden floors. The desk that they share has only Fay's notebooks and textbooks scattered across the surface. If their lives were a novel, Fay would be portrayed as chaos while Juliette is calm.