The dress to the left is the first dress Alison wore in her flashback, the right one is the one the she wore after.
Alison's POV.
Blake was dedicated. I had to give him that. He was like hawk, sweeping the restaurant, a frown playing on his lips as he watched my every move. I was stupid to even believe that today would be stress-free. He would watch me from the distance as I took a customer's order.
I had felt extremely nervous, tugging unconsciously at my skirt or pressing my palm against my head to flatten out the knots in my hair. The eerie yet familiar sensation was beginning to flood my body.
Self-consciousness.
After I had met Blake my pride had began to crumble. His constant snarls and snappy comments were little help and I found myself doubting my worth. Blake had made it his top priority to remind me how we were definitely not together. How he would never willingly be with someone like me, he had said.
Someone like me.
In his world, I was merely a peasant who he had once stumbled across him. And that infuriated me. I agree that I was not up to his standards. I wasn't rich. I wasn't a millionaire.
But I was human.
I made mistakes. I wasn't perfect.
Yet, the man was so adamant on having someone who was flawless. Someone like him. Someone who could snap their fingers and the money would start pouring out of a golden pot. And so I had begun to compare. I had compared myself to other women. Women who Blake would constantly complement at a dinner parties, eyeing them furtively. Women that he would make him quickly unwrap the hand draped around my waist, sending my a repulsed glare before hurrying off after them.
But what had irritated me the most was that, I could see where he was coming from. They were perfect. Full lips, high cheekbones, flawless complexions and amazing figures where the obvious answer to the men who flocked at their ankles. It was a pity though. Their attitudes tarnished the whole look. Yet, could I blame them? Money was at the fingertips, they had grown accustomed to the ease. However, I did not agree with them on many topics, especially the way they treated the butler or servants.
- Flashback -
I grinned widely at myself in the mirror, straightening out the dress. Pressing my palm against the fabric, I pushed away the non-existent wrinkles, before sending a quick glance back at glass.
I was wearing a black dress that stuck to me like a second skin, accentuating my curves in a graceful manner. It was mid thing and off the shoulder showing off my collar bone with a certain sensual look. The black heels that I had paired the dress with made sure my tan legs look much longer than they were.
I felt beautiful.
And it was a rare feeling. I didn't miss the side comments that were thrown my way whenever we had dinner with his friends. He would constantly groan about his despair of being with me, muttering how he was cursed. His friends would only remain quiet, throwing me pitiful glances occasionally as the grip on my fork heightened. My head would be bowed, my eyes not moving from the steak laying on the plate, as the familiar stinging sensation in my eyes began to prickle. The unsettling feeling of resement and worthlessness would scratch at my belly, and it took all my will power to not stride out the room. But that would be singing my death sentence. I knew Blake would've hissed at me, spit flying from his mouth, the next day, yelling about my embarrassing behaviour.
I found myself frowning at my reflection, and I shook my head, forcing a weak smile. My attempt was feeble, but as my eyes ran over my body, a stronger smile began to work itself up my lips. I was restless to see his reaction.
Would he like it? Would he think I was pretty? Would he want me then?
Different scenarios of him pulling me into his arms and silencing me with a loving kiss played in my mind and I fidgeted in excitement. Drawing in a deep breath, my hand gripped the door handle, pushing softly. My palms were slightly clammy, and I stepped down the stairs carefully, my eyes darting across the room. They settled on a man in a crips tuxedo, his hands clasped behind him and a grim frown on his face as his eyes raked over my body.
I stayed silent, rubbing my arm, anxiously. A flash of anger crossed his face, and he snarled, advancing at me. His hand gripped my bicep in a firm hold, scowling down at me. My eyes widened, and I looked up at him in fear.
"What the hell are you wearing?"he snapped, his gaze becoming somehow even harsher.
I whimpered, hanging my head, unable to meet his gaze.
He threw his hands up, stepping away from, disgust etching his features,"You look like a slut! What will the people think of you? Some cheap girl that anyone can fuck? I'm sure that's what you want, but I will not allow my reputation to be tarnished from some trash. Go change to something respectable. Now."
A choked sob emitted from me, and I swiped under my eyes, not wanting to break down in front of him. I wanted to prove to him that I was strong. That his words meant nothing to me. But they did. They meant everything to me. I nodded, quickly, scurrying up the stairs to aid the waterworks that were threatening to fall soon.
Yet I didn't miss the two words that he muttered as I climbed the stairs.
"Fucking slut."
It was enough to have me bended over, clutching my torso as the transparent liquid began to flood. The tears littered on my dress, wet patches beginning to expand. An unbearable feeling began to settle at my stomach, like a burning. My heart chipped slightly.
t felt like I cried for hours but as I lifted my head and glanced the clock, it had only been ten minutes. I coughed lightly, picking myself up from the pitiful state I was in.
As I made my way to my room my mind began to take many routes.
Was I really that ugly? Was I slut?
I glanced at myself at the mirror, and I scrunched my nose in disgust. I could not believe that just minutes ago I was enjoying my appearance. I did look like the ultimate slut. My dress was much too short, showing off too much skin as well.
Sniffling, I rummaged through the wardrobe, picking out an ankle length black dress, that had a slit on one side from the leg. It did compliment my figure well. At least I didn't look like a slut. I looked respectable. Fixing up my makeup, I frowned as I glanced at my swollen red eyes. I had already pressed some cold water against my eyelids, and rubbed some lotion but they were still bloodshot, clear evidence of my prior activities.
Taking in a shaky breath, I pasted a fake smile on my face. Was I ready? No, but I had to go down there before Blake becomes enraged and makes his way up to my room. I quickly hurried down the stairs, afraid if I had taken to long.
His eyes darted down my body, his face expressionless.
"Took you long enough. Do not take so long next time, I have things much better to get to."he glowered.
I nodded, keeping my head bowed to refrain from him seeing my eyes. I didn't want him to see. I didn't want him to see that he was capable of breaking me in a matter of words. I was better than this. But I knew he would come around. He would love me. Maybe not now, but soon. I just had to hang in there.
Giving myself a feeble attempt at smiling to boost my encouragement, I followed him, in silence. Because sometime silence was everything. Their were no words to describe our relationship. As confusing as it may be. As much heartbreak I would go through. I would hold on, in silence. I just wanted to be with him, even if he never uttered a single word to me. Because his silence told me something.
He accepted my presence.
Maybe not me, in a whole person, but he too accepted the marriage. He had accepted in the beginning to marry me, of course after heavy bribing and persuasion. He hasn't kicked me out. And that was my hope. Silence. His silence. His accpetance. He accepted the situation as much as he hated it. His acceptance was everything to me, how reluctant it may be.
- End Of Flashback -
Deep down, something within in me stirred in doubt. I knew that my dreams were dreams yet with hope I followed on. It was pitiful really. Pathetic. That I still held onto the rope that was slowly beginning to thin between us, tugging feebly.