Citric Acid.
A lot of Citric Acid.
That's what Glory needed. She could feel her pulse reducing and her head heavy.
And a pint mason jar of Lemonade would do really good.
But Glory was not going to risk getting out of her Lexus again.
Not after that torture there at Buco.
So she ignored her low blood pressure and kept accelerating. Once out of New Jersey, the car ran out of gas.
Uh.
She drove to the nearest Service Station and parked her car by the Gas Fill. She rolled down her driver's window and waited till the car fuelled up.
She then raced out of the station, her stomach gurgling.
A Road Sign appeared.

"Welcome to the Road to Nowhere" It read.

What? Was fate playing with her?
She blinked twice.
And glanced at the board again.
And this time, it appeared, "Welcome to New York City."
Oh God.
The car may had been out of gas, but her brain was still out of sanity.
She sighed. She was in NYC already. Should she get herself some lemonade here? Because New York is full of people, isn't it? And in such conditions, it's easy to disguise.

And she needed Citric Acid badly.
Maybe Fifth Avenue would be the best place. It's busier than the rest of New York.
Glory shook her head.
No chance. No going out of the car again.

So she continued driving. She could feel her brain get dizzy. She took a glimpse of her murky appearance in the rear mirror, and almost squealed.
Her hair was tangled than ever. Her eyes were hollow and dark, their intensity drunk. The odour of her Vanilla Perfume was dying out. Her lips were cracked and chapped.
Nothing like her.
Absolutely.
She really needed to stop it. Were the Hamiltons worth crying for? Did her parents even deserved being missed? Because, they left her themselves, didn't they? Her Mom could have been stronger. Her Dad could have shown authority over her that day he died.
Didn't they see they were leaving their daughter? Their little daughter?

They deserve no tear.
And if the Hamiltons actually cared, they wouldn't have kicked her out like she meant nothing to them.

She was Glory. And she was Glamorous.

Glory raised her head high, as if it would actually take her higher. Make her brawnier.
She was going to get some makeover. Then she'd go to a restaurant and deal with her stomach. After that, she would go and buy herself some apartment near Fifth Avenue. The Hamiltons deserved a little loss of money from Glory's bank account, didn't they?

She smirked. She was going to prove them leaving Glory was not the appropriate choice.

With a new vigour, she accelerated faster, an optimum destination in her alluring mind.

Glory parked her car besides Marie-Lou. She had already made an appointment with the cosmetologist there half an hour ago.
She parked her Lexus near the curb and got out. The New York winds were swirling, and the road was full. No one would notice her.
She carefully entered the salon, the humid air inside making her choke.
She sensed the smell.
Foundation, Glamorous eye shades, Dior liquid eye-liner, Nivea lotions, Sweet Touch nail varnishes.
Perfect.

Glory suited herself in a couch besides a magazine rack in the waiting area. She picked a copy of "Herald NY" and flipped to page 6. She went through some articles about mascara and blushes, then threw the magazine away. It was too boring.
She gazed outside the window. Two nightingales sat on the sill, chirping a sweet melody.
"Miss. Vanderwaal." Someone called.
Glory stood up and went to the makeover room. The cosmetic smell was stronger here, clinging tightly in the air.
The cosmetologist gave her a tight smile, definitely freaked out by Glory's smudgy face.
"Um, I want all of this removed. Some neat, professional strokes would do good, right?" She tried.
The cosmetologist nodded. She motioned her to take a seat and close her eyes as she went through.

Glory's mind wandered to peace as the cosmetologist applied foundation, smoothing her skin ever so lightly.