𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 by A.P.Mary

8.

"Twenty-what? How the fuck are you almost thirty? And when were you going to tell me you're a Libra?" I put my hands on my face in exasperation, and as I heard him laughing, he finally put the phone away. He stops his steps and faces me, now making me feel smaller compared to his 6'1 self. 

"Yeah, Libra," he repeated, finally tearing his gaze away from his phone to look at me. "Is that a problem?" I shook my head, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "No, no problem at all. It's just unexpected."

"I'm not thirty, or at least not yet, and I asked you the same question. A bit rude avoiding it," but I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my chest at his direct gaze. As we continued talking, I found myself feeling drawn to him.

"Twenty-four, I made them two weeks ago on the 17th," he softens, as if I just confirmed something I'm not aware of.

"Cancer," he said as he started to walk again, this time faster and harder to keep up with. The waves started growing more agitated and voluminous than before, and the sky started darkening with a soft shade of peach pink, signaling that a storm was about to make its presence felt. I tried to shake the worry off and focus on our conversation, but his close proximity and the way his eyes stared directly at me only intensified my thoughts. I wondered if he was feeling the same way or if it was just my own body getting the best of me. Either way, I couldn't deny the thrill that ran through my body as we continued to walk towards the approaching storm.

"Seems like someone did their research on astrology. Tell me about it." He slows down, and I catch up too. Now the wind started to get thicker, and our steps changed direction towards where we left the car.

"You have a peculiar way with words sometimes, and you have soft features." If this was meant to clear things up, it just confused me more. Is he implying that I'm weird or something, or am I tripping? As we rushed towards the car, the approaching storm seemed to mirror the turbulent confusion within me.

"I'm just going to pretend like I just understood what you just implied with that and go on with my day." I say this more for myself than for him, but I hear a little giggle coming out of his mouth, so maybe I am weird.

*

"You always pick them older," she's my complete opposite, to which she always chooses younger guys. My phone rings as she finishes her sentence, and as I go to see who was calling me, I see that it was the alarm clock I'd settled earlier. 

6 p.m. , goddamn.

"We better run to get ready; if I'm dying, at least I'm doing it looking pretty." half joking, half sweating out of nervousness and anxiety, trying to obscure it with comedy; She punches me again as I'm climbing down the stairs, almost making me fall. You want me dead sooner, don't you?

~

Her lipstick wasn't the only red thing on her face right now; her black hair was spread beautifully on the floor, like those photographers used to pose her for the front covers of those famous magazines.

My mom is a model; she's everything I wanted to be. I admired her, and I still do. It's so strange to speak about Mom in the past tense. I miss her even if she's right in front of me.

Her eyes are still open; they told me they stay open for a period of time, and I'm grateful for this: her beautiful gray eyes. I'm grateful I can see your eyes one last time, mom.

I know you're hearing me. I promise, mom, I'm going to kill those who did this to you, but I won't use a bullet like they did.

I'm going to use the lowest quality dagger I can find; I'm going to make them suffer; and I'm going to laugh like they did when they killed you.

~

I feel my throat itching as I watch the sink. Dark hair all over the place, and a smiling Blaise behind me with kitchen scissors. I have a bob now, barely touching my shoulders. At least It's straight. My head is a lot lighter, and slowly realize I love It. 

"I'm running to change, you throw that away or donate it to charity, I don't fucking care, but you look amazing".

Nice.

What dress would suit me is a dilemma, but more of a dilemma is which one would be great to hide three daggers in and make me comfortably run away from whoever I am running from. They were too tight for me to run away in them, and because of that, I chose pants and a shirt that would work much better.

I hid two daggers under the shirt, put on a black jacket, and called it an outfit.
As I walked out of my room, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the daggers against my skin. I made my way downstairs, where the siblings were waiting for me, and as I put my feet down, I heard a gasp.

Blaise stopped as he saw me, looking at me from head to toe with an appointed look: "God, if you're getting killed, at least die in a cute dress. What the fuck are you doing?" I stare at him, and while I  put on my earrings, I give him a list of Gabriele's brothers.

"I'm sorry to disappoint your standards, but I'm planning to get away from death, not embrace it by wearing a dress that incapacitates my moves." I laugh as he rolls his eyes. "I'm going to stay more in the center of the square, dancing or whatever. Nisha is selling cookies with a bunch of teens near the second exit, and you're the man letting the people in. Be sure to focus, and don't forget to let them in." He watches the names with the pictures of the guys, and suddenly a smile appears.

"Oh my. They're coming? And you and I look like this?" He says with an ironic, worried tone in his voice, "I'm running to change my whole outfit then." He started running upstairs, but as I started to walk away, I felt a hand gripping me. "And you too! Come with me ASAP."

It's going to be a long evening.

~

Done, I got tortured into trying as many outfits until Blaise was satisfied, or, as he said, 'less disgusted than before', but it's still a win.

We drive to the festival, and on the way, we saw a bunch of people walking towards the place. We settled, everyone got their position, and the people started entering. I ran towards Nisha to ask her something, but the only remark she gives me is that she loves me and that nothing is going wrong, more to reassure herself than me.

"How are you, M?"

"Anxious, nauseous, anything with us that's negative, but it's okay; it's going to fade as soon as those people vanish from our lives forever." It's a fake it 'til you make it' type of mindset that I'm doing. I'm convinced that something's off completely or that this entire plan is going to be a total flop for some reason, and it pisses me off.

If the circumstances were different, this event would've been cute; the lights, the music, and people just genuinely having fun gives me both a sensation of satisfaction and sadness, knowing that at any time this atmosphere would cease, either for everyone or just for us three.

Suddenly girls are now looking towards me, boys and men too, and I eventually start sweating. Something has to be off about me; am I dressed stupidly? Is this green dress too much? One of my daggers fell? Every single question is valid, but I understand that they aren't looking at me; gasps are heard, even some swear words that I could comprehend since they were the only thing I could decipher in Italian, and I can't understand what got them so shocked.

They ain't looking at me, but the 'something' behind me

or someone

someone very hard to not recognize

and someone who decided to wear a black suit and let his hair free.