❝ But this boy, this charming boy had laid sights upon her dead boredom and ripped it apart. She wasn't one for younger men, but there was a sort of aura that sucked the quivers of Josephine chest and flowed warmth between her legs...❞
〰️
Dante Vale...
Josephine's eyes opened to morning. After the long awaited dread, she had prepared herself thoroughly for the new week. No more was the baby strapped in a chair, cowardly and ashamed. She would be fearless. She would be Josephine Williams. And she would be beautiful.
The start had been difficult, as beginning things always were, but she had done everything to distract herself: starting with skin.
She rubbed bird feces into her skin, smelling like rotten milk but warding off embellishes, smooth to the touch. Then for her bruises, she slathered pads of sloshed honey mixed with hot water doused with roses, and stuck them onto her imperfections like band aids. To manage her hair, she covered it with banana puree, right at the root, leaving it to untangle itself and remove the gray ends. An hour later, no more and no less, unless she wanted to see herself become a hag, she massaged herself with apricot oil, rinsed everything off with goat milk, and finished with a blend of egg yolk, cantaloupe juice, and vinegar to sip on that kept her skin dewy soft.
Rigorous hours of grooming was all that Josephine could do to ignore the waiting, the tell tale shift of clockwork that counted down to her return. To them.
She had missed an hour or two of sleep because of her prattling of today's coming. Josephine couldn't imagine what scheme Dante or Camillo could try with her today. But a nod to her large mirror, the reflection of Josephine's spine straight, arrogant lips glossed in fair pink, and hair set to an impeccable braid, and she knew she would be fine. Let them try. She dared them.
She was Josephine Williams and she would never be afraid.
She wouldn't weep, nor would she tremble. The trip to school was over as soon as it began, sensing no sinister premonitions besides her worries, and when Josephine's driver regarded her door and extended a firm hand, she took it. Stepped out of the vehicle, and smiled at her captive students who scurried away, not wanting to be Josephine's latest victim.
Because she was dignified. And feared. So what if she had a few mishaps days prior? School was her territory, and only Josephine knew all the bounds. Dante could play her outside of the halls, but Josephine knew how to fiddle the strings inside classrooms. She'd show them what she was made of. All of them.
Finding her first problem wouldn't be so difficult, as she interwove between the quieter lanes of hallways making sure to not catch a glimpse of Camillo's or Dante's goons, much less the boys themselves. The occasional cheeky panes of that nothingness reverberated inside of Josephine, as much a nuisance as could be, but she pushed them aside, resolute, ready to be done with it all.
Another Monday. Josephine told herself.
Josephine followed the chaos dizzyingly, alien to the idea that she herself had not been the one to cause it, and found herself in the female locker rooms. A soiree of ladies dressed in cheer uniforms, parallel to the one Josephine adorned as she recognized the faces of her teammates at once, entertained themselves against the three victims of the day. Another Monday. Another normality.
Between the flickering bulbs in dire need of a change, a sneer in toe, red lips pursed back, Josephine found her first problem in the center of it all and harrumphed.
Lexi spun, recognizing the tone immediately. She took a step forward to greet her, coolly, as always loyal to Josephine's antics, and complaints, before the others joined in. "Already annoyed at this hour?" Lexi said, impervious to the three girls beneath her.
The victims were none other than the usual onslaught Josephine's entourage harassed: Rosella, Ember, and Abby. Voices unheard of, aptitudes and presence often going unnoticed. They were always either studying or off in their little trio, before dragged by Josephine's teammates and squealing like piglets. But it was mainly the terror of the girls, Josephine, that forced Rosella and her friends to seek out hiding places to avoid her blunt comments and ill-fated actions.
Of course it was a game. As it always were, her decision of not bullying the girls on a regular basis, but more so an irregular pattern. The game consisting of an on and off delay, the wait of it all that made Josephine simper and beam. The unknowing feeling of whether today was the day she would lay eyes on the girls, or the next. Or the next. Sometimes, there went entire weeks without the girls acknowledging the trio's presence.
Unfortunately, today they had started without Josephine. She noticed the three drenched in water, their plaid uniforms sticking to their skin. They trembled on rough knees, fighting the urge to cry.
"Maybe I am annoyed," Josephine said, taking a seat. To which the girls all sat around the benches surrounding her own.
They all heard the edge in Josephine's voice. Lexi winced, probably imaging her sour mood coming from not beginning the abuse of the trio herself. She knew Josephine hated it when she was deceived, much more from people she considered worthy of her trust.
Lexi didn't want to lose that hand. She placed a hand on Josephine's shoulder, wrist sparkling in gold bracelets. "What's wrong?"
Josephine crossed her arms. While it did irk her that she couldn't lavish herself on the delectable victims in the room, what bothered her more was the uncertainty of knowing what to do with Lexi.
Lexi was useful. Losing her to gain Camillo would be difficult, and involve consequences. Managing Lexi's wraith to Camillo's flings, an incident Josephine had been present on in many occasions, would also prove to be an obstacle.
Instead, Josephine smiled, banishing all thoughts of her troubles. "Just a bad hair day,"
Her comment left the girls relaxing, adding in each of their own idea to 'fix' the braid Josephine had adorned herself with. Shortly as expected, one after the other removed the braid entirely and tousled the silk-straight hair down the panes of her back, pinning the top half in smooth twists, leaving loose strands cascading across her face like waterfalls.
She hadn't expected a makeover, but what harm did it do? She surveyed herself in the mirror, pleased with the girl's handicraft on her head. Giddy, she admired herself some more, before remembering something crucial.
Her phone.
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Not much action, but more pivotial information to happen at school.
