This morning is not grey, but soothing lavender and brilliant amber. The colours merge into neon pink and peach. I awake early each morning, so the pleasure of watching the twinkling twilight dissolve into the celestial sunrise is all mine. The early morning sun is already well risen and the spring grass shines as if it has its own gentle glow from within. The air feels refrigerated. Though it is late enough for bright light, it is early enough for the streets to be almost deserted - perfection. Apparently, 6:22 am is the sweet spot.
The balcony of my bedroom directs east, so that I can sit on the weekends with a 'Caffe Con Panna' or 'Caffe Mocha' and relax in the beauty of the sunlight blossoming, hurrying away the darkness that torments us at night. Sitting out here quietly observing the world brings wave after wave of refreshing calmness washing over me, cleansing my mind. Ellison made me promise that I would not do any work at all this weekend, and instead spend time with doing what I want to do. It sounds silly, but this is like a holiday to me. I at least do seven hours work on the weekend – I am lost with out it. I only work all the time because there is always some thing to do, and it keeps me busy from reflecting on my heartless father, lost mother and now the engagement. Also, because I live alone there is nothing for me to come back to here.
I guess I have never had a reason to or someone to help me set boundaries.
Now that the sun is soaring ever higher towards the sky, as an oasis of warmth, I guess it is time to get up from my delicate silk – designed table and chair and start the day. My maid does not work weekends to be with her family, and I do not need her to haul my ass out of bed to get to work. After my shower I brush on a little bit of concealer, sweep on some mascara and layer on some nude – pink lip gloss. I also gently curl my hair and slip in some silver hoops. For clothes, I put on a baby pink tight top that scoop into a 'U' on my chest, and leaves a strip of my golden skin peeping through above my trouser line. For trousers, I chuck on some baggy grey cargo pants that rides low on my curvaceous hips.
I spend my morning doing odd things that I have not had time to do in years, which brings me back to the free and happy childhood I yearn to escape back too. After cleaning, online shopping, calling my brother and going for a swim I decide to do something that I have not done in ears. Painting. My mother was the one that taught me how to paint, and with out her here, whispering words of encouragement and praise in my ear along the journey to completion, it just does not feel the same, and my mind is drawn blank of ideas.
However, today I feel like drawing my mother, sitting in my garden with her waterfall of blonde hair cascading down her back before the illness. Sitting politely yet ungraciously, with a twinkle of mischief and childish laughter in her eyes. With her sun kissed skin – not the ghoulish white it was reduced to in the end. Sitting there, looking like the Gods themselves sculpted her.
My hand moves over the canvass - it is almost as if my mind is directing my hand without me, odd perhaps, but that is the way it is. My hand moves instinctively to the right spot, building a new picture, one I have never seen before. In these fantastical worlds, I see reflections of my own mind, the way I think, but there is something else there too. I do not know what, perhaps I just imagine it, but when I paint I feel closest to my mother and it gives me a peace I cannot find any other way.
I am almost half way through my painting when suddenly my phone starts beeping, knocking me out of my creative stance, and pulling me back to earth with a bang. With a sigh, I put down my brush and pluck my phone out of my pocket, smearing green paint on it in the process. What greeted me chilled me to the core.
*Unknown* 12.22
I hear you are to be wed, and yet you haven't announced it yet? Would not want that secret out before your little party would you? Well, too late! By tomorrow, you and Ellison will be on the front of every tabloid, demeaning your little affair. If you do not want any more damage to come to your family's name, then you will call off the engagement immediately – we know you are not in love with each other. What would your mother say about your gold digging ways? I am sure she is very disappointed in you. So end it now, or else everything you love will be taken away from you.
Who is this? Why would someone want me to pull out of my engagement? Who knows about this before the announcement? What are they going to do to me?
My mind became a carousel of worries and regrets and insecurities as I started freaking out at this new information. Who could possibly benefit from me and Ellison 'breaking up'? Before I could do anything about it, my phone alerted me to another message coming through. Hesitantly I peaked at the message, sending another chill down my spine.
*Unknown* 12.34
If anyone finds out about this message, then expect being awoken tonight to finding out someone you love being in hospital.
The rest of the afternoon passed by in a haze of locking, checking and checking again the doors and windows, calling all of my loved ones and starting pouring my feelings into a new painting of a girl surrounded by voices feeling vulnerable and helpless. Me. I have had some online threats before on my social media, but I just write them off as jealousy and empty threats. This is all the more real, and I am not going to tell anyone, as I am not going to be responsible for anyone being hurt.
Strange as it is, the first person who comes to mind that I would want to tell is Ellison. Not because it involves him, but because I feel we have reached a new level in our relationship, and I trust him. I trust Kendall, Poppy and Serafina as well, but there is something that cannot be defined in words when it comes to him. I just have this feeling that wherever he is and what ever he is doing he would come running to help me if I need it, and honestly it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
After I had my meal, I trudged wearily upstairs, emotionally strained. After getting ready for bed, I lie in my soft silk sheets trying to sleep – the only escape from my troublesome thoughts. I know all the techniques for falling asleep, I have tried them all. Now I am convinced that doing them will only keep me awake for longer. Every half hour or so I roll over and look at the time. It is somewhere in the early hours before my thoughts become disorganized enough to release my mind into sleep.
****
Slowly and reluctantly, I uncover my face. I blink, close my eyes, and blink again. Streaks of sunlight penetrate the window and blind me. I sit up, drag my feet off the bed, and rub my knuckles onto my eyes. I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. I watch my legs dangle above the soft, plush white carpet.
Instead of enjoying the aroma of croissants, toast, hash browns and all the other confectionaries you could possibly imagine for breakfast on a Sunday morning, my eyes dart to the newspaper on my left, displaying a picture of Ellison next to the headline 'Playboy Turned Druggie?' Shocked I read the article, eyes wide in a frenzy. According to an 'inside source', Ellison is using his family business to illegally deal drugs and other black market dealings, including slavery. It is also claimed that he pocketed the 12.5 million pound that Kefalas & Co Media and News Limited raised for charity last year, to buy his Spanish villa. I cannot believe all of these allegations! They are ridiculous. Ellison does drink, but he does not smoke and I have never seen him do anything in the slightest illegal. Apart from speeding. I wonder what his dad is saying! Moreover, who would sell the press this ridiculous story? Maybe it is the same person who texted you yesterday... My conscience taunts me.
Sighing I take my plate of food into my lounge and snuggle up into my soft white sofas with brown fur throws over them. I am wearing a baggy white jumper, grey sweats, my face is makeup free, and my hair tumbles down my back in unbrushed waves. To the outside world, I look like a mess! Switching on the news, I am greeted with an overenthusiastic blonde saying how jealous she is... of me! The person was not kidding when they said they would release the news!
Most of the channels are gossiping about our speculated engagement, saying that Ellison and myself have neither confirmed nor dismissed it. The blonde woman goes as far to say 'they won't last five years'. Ha, if only she knew. Reading through the tabloids online on my iPad Pro, everyone seems to have a different view of what is going on. One newspaper says that we met in a strip club. Another says that I am a gold digger, but the most surprising one of all is that The Inside magazine writes that we are in love and expecting a baby in the spring. What? Do I look fat? The press is like a vulture, willing to do anything to sell a story and not caring about how much they hurt that person.
Unfortunately, one tabloid calls Ellison out on his famous playboy attitude, claiming that we could not have been dating long as he was seen out with Miss Brianna Sinclair just a month ago. It is hinted that he is already cheating on me, and I am 'weak' and 'madly in love' with him, so I am with him even though he is with other woman. It makes my blood turn cold.
How disgusting! I am independent and strong, and there is no way that I would blindly like, barely love a man who repeatedly cheats on you and treats you like crap! My phone ringing knocks me out of my angry haze. Glancing over I see it is Ellison.
Edited