Façade [Book 2] (Glamour Series)

Sneak Peak at Insincerity!!!

(The rest of the book is on my profile!! :D )

Chapter 1

She hovers her shoulders above the camouflage duffle-bag, a strained breath flitters lightly from her parted lips as if she were contemplating a story someone shares with her. A glint, a faint twinkle, catches the afternoon sun atop her waterline. The reddened whites of her eyes forcing forest-green iris's to stand at attention. Taking one deep breath, pushing her chest outward, she zips the bag's folds together softly, and lifts herself to her sore feet.

The walls murmured with small children screaming, mothers cooing softly, and overly projected television sets blaring across hotel hallways.

She backs away from the medium-sized bag, a tinge of guilt gnawing at her insides. "I didn't know they would take it this far." She whispers to herself. A soft knock at the door brings her eyes up from the duffle-bag. Trying to dry her eyes before saying: "Yes? Who is it?"

"It's me." A voice strikes at her insides, feeding the beast that was already choking down guilt. "May I come in?"

She nods, even though he can't see her, and replies: "Yea."

He enters the room, shutting the door softly behind him. His hands linger at the golden knob before lacing together expectantly. His eyes are downcast, his neck bent slightly over so that he could see his brown boots. "How you doing?" He asks through thin air.

For a moment, she considered to pretend she hadn't heard him, that his words didn't reach her in that moment, but he would get an answer one way or another. By creating more bruises at his neck or clawing at her own heart till her tears mixed with blood. Either way, he would get his answer as to how she really felt inside. "I'm alright." She whispers, her eyes downcast to the bag before her again and sinking into the end of the bed.

"Eris." He persists, taking a step to her and sighing sadly. "Please, your guilt kills me." He pauses: "my guilt kills me!"

"You're not a murderer." Eris sneers.

Reaching for her, he pushes the bag out of the way and takes its place on his knees. His hands in her lap and his ocean blue gaze surveying her lashes; he sighs. "Maybe we should talk about this."

"I don't need to talk about it." She meets his eyes. Weakness and danger conflicting within her very spirit.

"Eris, please-"

"Oliver- I don't want to talk. Leave me be: I need to sleep."

Oliver stands, his hands raking through blonde strands of honey hair. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then." He exits.

As soon as the door shuts, she's in tears. Her eyes are shut, burning, and her back is slouched over her thighs. Salty tears spread across her face as her hands press to her eye-sockets in an untimely fashion. Her cheeks flush a bright pink and her nose sniffles up snot.

"Why can't I just be human, and fight for my independence? But no: I have to be the daughter of a supposedly 'evil' father and be destined to follow him down to his 'hellish' level. And, now, I have to turn my back on Laurence and Oliver, keeping my dad alive for selfish reasons: to save my breaking soul. Why me? What force has haunted me so, that I would be stuck with such an unforgiving fate? I hurt everyone around me, and everyone hurts me."

Stop your crying. You're still alive at least.

"And you're still the life of the party. I thought you were on my side?" Eris tries to look through her angry tears, right at her dead best friend / ex-crush: Joe. He has similar features as Oliver does with thicker and darker hair that curled around in little ringlets, and a tall lean figure. Though, his eyes are a deep hazel that reflect green and orange depending on his surroundings and clothes. But, lately, he's stuck in his blue and white letterman jacket that he died in- scratch that- the clothes that Eris killed him in.

Please, I never left your side. Even in death.

Eris shakes her head, knowing he was trying to crack a joke: "Literally. Even in death you haven't stopped haunting me."

Yes, well, you have one of those faces that are hard to forget.

"Ha. Ha." Eris sighs, wiping her tears with the black uniform Laurence had made her wear. As the real Dead King, because Oliver had been insincere about his true identity, Laurence has the authority to make her wear what he needs her to for the mission at stake.

And carry what she needs.

Eris looks down at the bag, wondering if she should pretend it fell out the window. What they had planned for her father, when and if they got to him, was not an experience she wanted to have.

Killing him was not her intent.