Falling for the unloveable

Ballroom dancing

Iris:

After a million photos and just as many TikTok's I manage to escape Mal's house and head back to my own. I have to pull my dress up so it doesn't brush against the dirty pavement as I reluctantly make my way towards my front door where I know Richard will be waiting for me. My dress has a long slit up one side of it so my entire left leg is exposed and it sits off of my shoulders with glitter decorating the entire thing.

The girls showered me with compliments yet all I felt was dirty. I hated the girl that stared back at me in the mirror so much so I had to force my hand to stay by my side and not shatter the reflective object with a single punch. I didn't do anything of the sort, simply looked away and made sure all of my bruises were concealed.

Bile crawls up my throat as I let the door shut behind me but I swallow it back down, praying to get through all of this without breaking down.

"Right on time. Let's go" I simply nod, stepping a lot further back than necessary to let him pass by me. Not one glance is spared at me as he clambers into a limousine parked on our driveway. I take a deep breath before following after him only to instantly move to the furthest seat away from him once inside. He rattles off some address to the driver and the car rumbles to life beneath me. My gaze sticks to the window like glue as I attempt to ignore his heavy, drowning presence.

Eventually, we stop outside of a house, medium in its size but more than comfortable for the single woman that exits through the front door. Richard quickly gets up to open her door and greet her with a kiss on the cheek. She smiles all lovingly at the man I barely recognise as my father. There's no cruelty, no evil seeping through his veins as he touches her hand in the softest manner with the same hand that stabbed me with a broken beer bottle and punched me only last night. I think I might throw up.

Neither of them acknowledge my presence as I quietly go crazy in the corner, the couple is too busy whispering lovingly to notice the girl dying only two seats away from them. I'd come to the conclusion that Richard Moore just wasn't capable of loving like a normal person, that's why he hates me, that's why he'd raise a hand to his own flesh and blood but god I couldn't of been further from the truth. He was capable, well and truly, I was simply as he's put it-unloveable.

The 30 minutes it takes to get to the stupid venue uses up all of my patience and by the time we pull up I'm stumbling out of the car, holding back from retching my guts up. I have to use the side of the limo to steady myself as a wave of nausea floods my body and everything becomes blurry. I heave out a staggered breath, blocking my eyes from all of the flashes coming from paparazzi placed outside, waiting for America's richest millionaires to make their appearances.

"Iris" a cold hand brushes my skin and I'm quick to snap my wrist out of his hold. Don't touch me! Is what I want to scream but I hold my tongue.
"I'll be inside in a minute" I tell him through harsh breathes. "Don't make a scene" he warns me in an icy tone that doesn't shock me. Forcing myself to nod I take deep, steady breathes as I keep my head down and head through the large, wooden doors. Richard and his 'girlfriend' disappear out of my sight presumably going into the actually ballroom while I search for a toilet.

My body collapses onto one of the velvet red cushioned seats placed by the floor length mirrors. My lack of food throughout the entire day mixed with the overwhelming emotions I felt in the car has left my body in a bad state. Combing my fingers through the ends of my hair I struggle to fight the urge to have a smoke and battle the never silent voices telling me how easily I could swallow the pills secretly sitting in my bag, waiting to be taken. Oh how easily I could end it all, all the suffering, all the pain. I'd never have to see his face nor feel his punches. I'd be free.

My fingers trace the label stuck to the pill bottle before they tightly grasp the plastic tube, I'm ready to find peace. But before my hand can even leave the bag the bathroom door slams open with enough force to make me drop the bottle. A lady I don't recognise waltzes in with her head held so high she's looking down on not just me but everything around her. She starts to touch up her wine red lipstick while I manoeuvre around her. Careful to put the bottle safely back inside my purse and plaster on a face of indifference.