Don't Touch Her Act 2: Finding Peace

Forty-Five

𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓪

Nervously, and without Violet's knowledge, I bought a dress that next evening and prepared myself both mentally and physically.

He's good, I kept repeating to myself, hoping Mini was right in her depictions.

Constantly, that same question crowded my thoughts. Would Mini lie? Could I trust her? Could I trust him? Would he hurt me?

Why was trust so hard?

I looked at myself in the mirror. A plain brown dress, with a subtle heart-shaped neckline, and a cream sweater that reached my waist.

The strawberry-blonde hair reaching just above my elbows. My hair used to lay right above my shoulders. The last time my hair had been cut was in that orphanage.

I remember men sometimes complimenting my hair. How soft and healthy it looked. The one thing I never let them touch was my hair.

I shuddered. Maybe I shouldn't go.

I looked into my face. The downturned mouth containing the kisses of unpure men and sadness. The eyes that held deep horrors and remorse.

How desolate I looked.

I turned away and walked out from the bathroom.

He's good, Mini had said.

But, how do I know? How does she truly know? He could hide behind a curtain and tear it down once the timing was right. Then where could I go? What would I do then?

There is nothing.

Nothing. What a simple word that held so much meaning. I was nothing. Nothing but a dead soul in a living world. Why was I there? I never belonged.

Nothing. Laying there and doing nothing. Letting them do what they wanted with me. Touching me, kissing me, and using me.

Nothing.

I grabbed my keys, settled into my car, and sat there, letting the cold embed into my bones until I shivered violently, offering the small amount of relief I needed to hurt.

I waited for ten minutes and then turned the car on as warmth slowly filled the space.

Despite the thoughts crowding my mind, my body became almost mechanical as if controlled by a remote control, as if I was a puppet dangling by strings. Pushing on the pedals as I drove, opening the door as I arrived and then walking into the restaurant.

One more time.

When he used me.

One more time.