Zara

Nine months later

I sat at the vanity table, applying the last layer of red lipstick before grabbing a napkin. Red wasn't my signature color, but it was Jane's. She had dirty blonde straight hair with bangs, brown eyes underneath glasses, and wore baggy clothes any given chance- only taking them off for a fitting blue and white dinner uniform.

Even from here, I could smell the stench of burger meat and coffee from the bathroom where the uniform lay under a pile of expensive clothing. Clothes that didn't belong to me, but would be washing even if all I owned was three outfits- including my uniform. Clothes that belonged to my insufferable roommate, who took me in so all I could do was smile even if on the inside I just wanted to slide the knife taped on my inner thigh across her slim highly-priced neck. Her indifference and frankly disrespectful attitude toward me allowed the murderous thought to stay at bay. She didn't know anything about me, to her I was just-

"Plain Jane," Cornelia interrupts my thoughts as she saunters into my room. She was dressed in a tight black bodycon dress with a single layer of diamonds on top of each breast top. Her light brown hair went down in curls across her pronounced collarbones. Thick eyelashes covered dark chocolate eyes and her lips were painted a light shade of pink that complimented her soft cheekbones and light olive-tone skin. "Well, don't you look nice in my dress," she grits out.

Cornelia is a ballerina, she said as much when interviewing me to be her roommate. We lived in the apartments across from the university she attends, claimed that she didn't want to room with fellow students in case they got the wrong idea, and thought she actually liked them when she simply tolerated people. I was included in that. She made it clear when telling me to stay out of her way and that we would get along finely, then with an arched eyebrow waited for my response.

When I responded with- perfect- she scoffed and began walking away. I tentatively grabbed her hand before showing her the bill. She looked down at it before crossing her arms.

"Do you expect me to pay?" Her voice was shrill and felt like nails scraping against a chalkboard.

"Did you expect me to?" I question back, reaching for my knife as she gives me a quizzical look as if I was her subject and she needed to study me. Then she let out a small chuckle before pulling out a wallet from her black clutch and placing a platinum card on the table.

"I normally don't pay in-" She looks around the coffee shop, horror written all over her delicate features, "small businesses- if you can call this rat hole a business- since I don't like small charges showing up in my bank statement." I roll my eyes as I grab my things, ready to leave before she sits back down; legs crossed and head on her propped hand. "Where are you going, silly? You don't even know the address yet."

This halts my movements as I narrow my eyes at her. "You're going to let me live with you?"

"Of course," she smiles sweetly. "The only thing is-" she begins to twirl her platinum card with her hand, "I don't need rent as much as I need a-" she stops the card before her eyes land back on mine, "a maid of sorts."

My eyebrows shoot up, and I'm so flabbergasted that I sit down and stare at her, wide-mouth and beating my eyelashes in shock. My response doesn't deter her as she continues telling me about herself. "You see, I'm a prima ballerina and my daddy pays for my studies. His only requirement was that I fend for myself in house duties which-" she blows out a raspberry- "let's be honest. Is quite utterly boring." She rolls her eyes and a small British accent comes out before she clears her throat and smiles as if it was never there to begin with. "Anyway," she sighs, " I can't very well go and hire someone from a real business because he'll find out. I figure I pay for rent and you worry about the house-" her face scrunches up before she finishes, "stuff."

I gulp and quickly take a sip of water as she gives me a small smile and waits for an answer. This was a good thing, the only problem was, that I was once like her. I was daddy's little girl, being waited on by- my heart clutches at the memory of Bealliux- which I quickly shake away. It was too late now, I could never go back for her. I never even touched a credit card because everything was done for me. If I wanted clothes or shoes, they would arrive even before I would mention it. Everything was served and now I would have to find a way to use my useless hands.

I didn't want to lie so I said, "I've never done house stuff, but I can learn."

"Super," she chirps up, "that's really great." She stands up and side-eyes my gray sweatpants and blue sweater I stumbled upon when I reached America. "Feel free to use my clothes anytime. Just- be careful with them-" she grits out. Before suddenly gasping and saying, "there is one dress that under no circumstances you must ever wear, look at, or even breathe near it." She gets a far away look with big glassy eyes, hands clasped together, as she murmurs, "It was the one I used for my big debut and I love it to pieces."

"I figured you'd have a special closet in that case."

"Oh no. I can never part with it." She looks me up and down with a perplexed expression as if trying to decipher me by our simple interaction. I knew I was beautiful so I could imagine her train of thought straining to make sense of how I kept my complexion beat and yet wore a faded image of what I assumed was Winnie the Pooh in a much too large short and ripped sweatpants. "I know you might not know what it's like to have things of value but-"

I cut her off. "I've had things of value. They're just not with me anymore." Before she can ask any more unnecessary questions I begin walking away and she follows. Guiding me to a bright red BMW. God, this woman loved red.

"The dress I specifically asked you not to even-" she gives me a humorless giggle as she finds her words to finish.

"Breathe near?" I finish for her as I smooth my hands over the silky material. It was true. Red isn't my color but it was Cornelia's and looking at her grave eyes rooming my body and taking in how the red dress fit me like a second skin; I knew I would make it look good. Besides the color, the dress was gorgeous. It was red at the top, cut in the center with shimmering diamonds, fanning down in black and light blue mixtures giving the illusion of a match that had burned too bright. There were small slits on the sides of my waist and one on the left side of my leg that reached my mid-thigh. It was a breathtaking dress that I would never wear in normal circumstances. It would call unwanted attention but Cornelia managed to piss me off. I couldn't kill her since she was the reason I lived in comfort, but I could find petty ways to get my revenge.

This was one of them.

"Do you not like it on me?" I bat my eyelashes at her before I twirl. "I thought it would look beautiful on me, as opposed to you. No offense." I give her a grin and walk to put on her black suede wedges, waiting for her comeback.

As I bend down and slip on one shoe, I see the small fluff ball make its way toward me at full speed, baring like all hell, clearly mad at me on its owner's behalf. I still for a moment at the barking but catch myself, allowing a chuckle to follow instead of at the little creature at my feet.

"Fifi," she yells and scoops up the pomeranian in her hands before running her hand over its soft hair. "You know we don't bark at guests and Plain Jane is a long-term guess-" Cornelia lifts her eyes and watches me stare at her mutt as if it has rabies.

Living with Fifi wasn't as bad as I imagined but the barking that accompanied the dog at times chilled my bones slightly. My mind is always reeling with the idea that he has found me. If I opened my door, he would be standing there- waiting, three dog leashes clutched in his hands before he released them and allowed those dogs to tear me limb for limb like they've done countless times to all his enemies. I was now one of those enemies so I wouldn't put it past my father to allow it.

Cornelia smiles at me before pretending to throw Fifi at me, making me stumble back slightly before I pin her with a glare I hope freezes her in ice. No such luck because her laugh resonates through the room before she begins walking away toward the door. Then she's shrugging.

"You know what, the dress does look good on you. Probably the only nice dress you've ever owned."

I walk in front of her but I notice her feet too late as she sticks it out and mine catches on it, propelling me forward to the floor with a loud crash. All the air leaves my lungs and I feel the knife nick my skin. I turn to look at her as I yell, "You bitch."

Her hand is on her heart, "I'm so sorry Jane. It was a total accident." She shrugs but I catch the sly smile on her face, "I hope you're okay." Then she roams her eyes over my figure before outstretching her hand towards me. I quickly swat it away and start standing up. "You know. I think it does look really good on you. Keep it."

I stood up and smoothened the dress, I wasn't fazed by the light nick on my thigh to go and cover it up. If it had been a large scratch, I knew I would start feeling the sticky substance but I didn't. Besides, it was smarter to not let her know I was carrying a blade on my body.

I smile at her, "Good because after tonight I plan on ripping it to pieces before setting it on fire with your little condo."

Her smile falters and is quickly twisted into a scowl as she folds her arms. "Go ahead-" she pretends to contemplate before adding, "I just wonder where would you live?" She starts strutting towards me, the dress making her hips sway like a field of flowers when a gentle breeze, with confidence and gentleness and no gaps. I could tell, this was the body of a dancer, but I was raised by one as well. So her movements that I was sure she used to intimidate, didn't work on me. Her words, however, were more piercing as she stood next to me, her head turned to the side to look at me. I can see her from my peripheral vision as I stand beside her but in the opposite direction. "Maybe go back to the streets? Hmm?"

That's when I turn with a glare, but all she does is smile. My hand clenched in the side, five seconds away from ramming into her face. Just then, her phone pings and she lowers her head before giving me a wider smile and a squeal. "The limo is here." She then grabs my hand and turns me around. "Come on. Let's drink and put this whole messy thing behind us."

I nod in agreement and begin to walk toward the door before her hand is on my arm as she applies pressure on it, my eyes instantly narrowing at the action. Her scowl and cold, calculating eyes bore into me as she said. "But Jane, remember where you stand. I invited you out to celebrate my birthday because my friends seem to like you for some reason, but you don't have any power here. You're just Plain Jane to me." Then her hand is gone and she's beaming at me again as if she hadn't just taunted me.

"I will," I tell her and push past her, making sure my arm digs into hers as I walk to the elevator. In the reflection, I see her hard gaze on me, and her fake smile slips to sneer at me but she quickly catches me and smiles again. I step into the elevator and say, "Let's go party."

"It'll be a fun night, I promise-" she tells me before stepping in and pressing the button that will take us downstairs where the limo waits with her friends already piled in and half drunk, grinding on each other as I steer myself away from the mess. Where the limo will take us to a new swanky club I've never heard of, where the music will be loud as fuck, and I will sit in the corner booth, waiting for Cornelia to tire out before she let us go home again.

"Can't wait-" I mock with an eye roll.

>>>

Okay, we are barely getting into the story but any thoughts??

Uff, I'm so excited yet very nervous. I hope it comes out okay,

Please comment, vote, and share.

Till next time.