Your lipstick stain is a work of art

"You, you, you, what did you do what did you do!"
"I-nothing..." I speak in a state of disbelief.

Waking up with a gasp, I turn around to see Moestie lying on my hair, pulling at it with her claws.

It has been a very long time, yet that memory still feels real. Also, the fact that every aspect of those days was ingrained into my mind didn't help either.

"Not my hair, baby," I speak in a croaky voice, shooing Moestie away. My thoughts wander to last night and I glance at the mirror. "Ouch!" I speak with a raspy voice when Moestie tugs at my hair. I lift her paws away from it and pull her into my hands. "You were here last night, you saw who it happening," I bring her closer to my face, "can you tell me what you saw?" I look at her. She meows and touches one of my cheeks with her paws. "Oh-no not my bruised face!" I wince in pain. I drop her from my arms and grab my phone from the side table.

An hour past noon?!
I groan in frustration. Scott's going to kill me.

It takes everything in me to toss my duvet off and get out of bed. I take a quick shower and decide to get dressed. I grab whatever my hands lay on. An oversized, full-sleeve black turtleneck with denim pants would do.

After putting my clothes on, I glance at myself in the mirror. The swelling had gone down a lot since last night, thanks to the ointments. However, it was only effective up to a point. Not even makeup would hide this.

I collect my phone and keys and make sure Moestie is fed before I leave. I also make sure to keep my pocketknife wherever I go.

Only thing I need with me.

The gleaming sun hangs in the sky, displaying its brilliance to the world despite being veiled by the clouds. The air was so crisp and filled with the smell of fresh grass and flowers, thanks to the beautiful park in front of my house.

I have to walk one mile to the subway.
How great. I do not feel like doing that right now. I dial in the only person I can talk to. She's going to kill me.

"Hello?"

"Alyssa? Are you alive? Where the hell have you been, Scott is putting us through hell right now, he just gave me this huge task and I don't know what to do, you're the only one who can help me. When I asked him again, he said he'll be back in a minute and it's been three hours! Three hours!" She yells. "I am losing my shit and my brain cells with each passing second and if you don't come right now I don't—"

"Azrah, listen to me, I'm at home and I can't walk right now. I've got... a sprained ankle s—"

"What?!" She screams into the phone. "Why didn't you tell me before, are you serious?! Wait. How?! Alyssa, I swear you're so careless I wanna slap you right now!" I move the phone away from my ears as it starts to bleed.

"Listen, I promise I'll explain everything to you later, is Josh there right now?"

"Yeah, you better," she speaks sternly. "And no, he had to meet his Nana since she kept missing him, so now I'm covering for him. And you!"

"Okay, how about you call him and ask him if he can pick me up, and don't tell him about the sprain, I don't want to deal with anyone freaking out."

"Sure, I'll text you. Okay, I gotta go, there's a really cute man here right now, he's wearing a suit and he's even got a beard!" She whispers loudly.

I laugh. "Alright, go have your moment princess—" "He just smiled at me bye—" She cuts the line before I can say anything.

☽

"Seriously?" I look at Josh who's sitting on the motorcycle. "Couldn't you bring the car?!"

"Wait. What happened to your face?" I see his eyes go wide as he turns off the ignition of his motorcycle.

"Oh my God!" He literally grabs my face and starts inspecting it. I slap his hand away. "What made you look like that even I couldn't guess," he shakes his head repeatedly.

"Oh, shut up! I—" I look away. "I fell from the stairs."
Wow.

"Stairs?!" He gives me an exasperated look. "What stairs?" He starts laughing.

"What do you mean what stairs shut up, I was going up to the roof and I missed a step." I shrug and fold my arms defensively.

He gives me a long, suspicious look.

"You sure it wasn't anything else?" he smirks slightly.

"Oh, fuck off," I glare up in frustration. "Can we leave now?" I nod towards that stupid motorcycle of his. He chuckles before settling on it.

"Stop," he says. I look up at him. "Why are you walking like that?" His eyes widen as he arches his brows, laughing once more.
"Because I got a sprained ankle Josh, get your mind out of the gutter!" I yell at his face.

"Oh, so something did happen," he laughs even more, snickering loudly. "And how did you get that one?"
I am going to murder him.

"You're a piece of shit." I proceed to sit behind him on his adrenaline machine.

"Hold tight," he says in a sing-songy tone before giving me a helmet.

"No, thank you!"

☽

We're in the restaurant of one of the most famous business companies and hotels in New York; Arley&Rivens. It's a mixed-use commercial complex with sixty-five floors. A skyscraper that stands tall in downtown Brooklyn.

Our guests are usually the ones that don't work here. But there's a lot of business meals happening throughout the day.

I got lucky enough to work here, thanks to Josh. He ranted about me to Scott, the restaurant's manager so much,  forcing me to write a résumé and eventually helped me get a job in Arlington. Working in these types of complexes and restaurants comes with its perks. Like not having to buy food from outside and get to take some home as an employee.
I'd never step foot in this place if I wasn't working here. Imagine paying a hundred dollars for a platter of hors d'oeuvres.

Though there are a few rude customers and egoistic businessmen who don't forget to rub off their fortune and wealth on our faces, it's nothing I can't handle. As long as the money's coming into my bank account.

Right now, Josh is a pain in the ass and I wish I could kill him. "Oh my God, Alyssa!" My coworker Azrah comes running up to me, her eyes filled with dread.

"She got railed," Josh whispers. I smack his jaw. "No!" She looks at me in anger/horror/confusion.

"What happened to your face?" She asks solemnly. "Yeah Alyssa, what happened to your face?" Josh turns around to look at me, his arms folded, his face holding a huge smirk.

They're both staring at me.

"Dude, I told you. I was going up to the roof and I missed a step, I was drunk!" I shrug my shoulders.

"Suuuuure...." he chuckles.

"How bad did you fall, babe? I mean look at you, it looks like someone beat you to a pulp," she says with concern, I think.
Yeah well, technically did.

"I know right? She got pretty hea—"
"Josh if you don't shut up right now, I'll call your Nana and make you stay with her the whole fucking day and you will be lucky enough to become the first victim of my pocketknife. You really don't want that," my brows furrow, my finger directly pointed at him.

"Uhhh, I can't tell if you're serious or not but...." his gaze is drawn to the restaurant's entrance, "I gotta go," he pushes past us. We both turn around. "Oh, not again," Azrah rolls her eyes.

"Who's that?" I ask confused.

"It's this girl that he likes, she lives on the 48th floor. Got all the dollars," she sighs seeing Josh trying to have a conversation with the redhead.

"Wait, how did you even get a sprain, don't you watch where you're going, you dumbhead!" she smacks my head.
"I told you, I was drunk, I twisted my ankle," I look over her shoulder to see Scott approaching us.

"Why do I feel like you're lying to me? Look at me when I'm talking to you!" she demands.

"Yeah- Scott. He's behind you, he's coming this way."

"Oh no, not again!" She sighs deeply in frustration.

"What are you girls doing here? Does this look like a place for gossip?"

I roll my eyes. He turns to me.

"And you, why weren't you here yesterday, do you think this is high school?"

"I didn't feel like coming?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Oh really?" His voice rises. "And I feel like firing you, should I? I don't know." He shrugs.

"Shh!" Azrah nudges me.
"And you, did you do it yet?" he looks at her, expecting an answer.

"Uh," she looks at me. "You said you were gonna tell me how so I-"
"No, please don't tell me you didn't even start," he sighs dramatically.

"Scott, you can't give such a huge work and expect us to work without instructions, we're not craftswomen."

"Oh please, you shouldn't even be talking here. You're late, to start with. Second, you failed to show up for your shift. Third, what on Earth do you think you're wearing right now; do you not think you're to dress up like you work here and aren't here to gossip in front of the customers?
I don't care what happened, or whether you were beaten to a pulp," he looks at me weirdly. "I want the job done. Got it?"

"I lost you at 'you're late'." I give him a kind smile.
He sighs. "You're really fired one of these days."

I give him a sheepish smile. "I've given the instructions to everyone, you both missed it. The party is in four hours and not even half of the work is done yet! Where is that blond-headed buffoon?" he looks around in anger.

His eyes turn the size of lemons when he finds Josh sitting at the table with the redhead.

"What on Earth is he doing?" He screams and runs off to him.

"Let's go, we've got a wedding after-party to arrange," Azrah rolls her eyes and grabs my hand.

☽

"And this table is for all the cousins, I think there's five of them," Scott reads out the list. "Yup, five."

"Why do you still look like you're here for a high school date," he turns to face me, then Azrah. "You better get your friend ready before they all arrive or I'll have to kick her out."

"Ugh." I roll my eyes.

"I'm sorry?" He tilts his head and I look up. "Oh, nothing-"

"Listen up everyone, I just got a text from Rosie, they all arrive in ten minutes, Get. Back. To. Work!" He demands everyone and yells into my ear before storming off.

"Such a Grumpzilla," Azrah rolls her eyes. What a perfect nickname for Scott.

We've been assisting with the arrangements for the past four hours, with no breaks in between. Scott has no mercy. Now, my only job is to serve wine and hors d'oeuvres to the guests, when I can't even walk properly. I groan in frustration. I change into my casual work uniform, It consists of a simple white button-down shirt, pants, and a black bow. I hate it, it makes me look like a fucking comedian. I choose to not wear the bow.
I put away my pocketknife into my pocket. But my hand brushes against something cold. It's the maroon lipstick Azrah gifted me a few months back for my birthday. I look into the mirror. And then back at it.

I suppose using it once won't hurt. But in my case, it will.

I look in the mirror and quickly apply the lipstick over my lips, being careful not to hurt my bruise.

I have to use all my energy to get my hair into a high bun. This stupid hair tie is so worn out it will snap at any moment. I bring a few strands forward, attempting to hide my bruises and cuts, but it's not like they can disguise the horror on my face.

I exit the restroom and enter the massive party hall. The guests have already arrived, and I catch sight of the bride. She looks radiant and joyful, her beauty glowing as she beams with happiness.
But she's committed to a relationship forever. I don't understand how you can be okay with that.
Or, it's just me. I mean, how do you commit to someone and spend your entire life with them without ever second-guessing your decisions?
I just don't think that's possible.

Marriage is a huge web of deception. It's always the ugly stuff that lies behind. The suppressed feelings and the awkward tension.

Absolute bullshit.

Josh strikes my arm from behind, jolting me out of my thoughts. He holds a tray filled with new wine glasses. "Back to work, Ms. 'Who-got-railed-so-hard-she-sprained-her-ankle'" he grins at me.

"Stop, saying that!" Azrah hits his head.
"Ow, what was that for!"

"For your childish attitude," I nod, snatching the tray from his hands and walking off to the bar. I set the tray on the counter and filled the glasses with red wine.

"Listen, my work is done here and I'm definitely not helping you with that," Azrah points at the red wine, "So I'm calling Yousef to pick me up, do you need a ride or are you gonna go with Josh?"

I pick up a glass, fill it to the brim, and take a sip, the rich flavour of the wine soothes my throat right away. She gives me a nasty look.
"I think I'm gonna have to stay here for a while. And I am never going with that whack head, on his stupid bike.

"Okay then, I'll drop you back. I have some work on the 20th floor. Just text me when you're done. And stop drinking on duty," she tries to snatch the glass from my hand but I turn around and chug down all the wine at once.

"Who am I even talking to," she sighs before leaving.

I keep the glass at the counter and grab the tray, slowly making my way into the crowd.

When the tray is finally empty, I come back to the bar to set them all at the counter. My eyes land on the wine bottle sitting in front of me. I glance around to make sure Scott isn't here before I grab it.

A frown creases on my face as I fail to find the glass I drank from.
It was right here.
Perhaps someone must have washed it.

I grab a new set of glasses, fill them and walk toward the tables.

I see elegantly dressed guests, a girl stealing glances at her crush across the table, couples older than my father having a make-out sesh, and a few women whispering to each other while casting scornful glances in my direction. I roll my eyes. People pass by me, looking at my face in fear/disgust/curiosity.

As another person grabs a glass of wine, pressure settles on me. The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I feel my cheeks burning up.

Why do I feel as if I'm being watched?

But everyone's watching me. I look like
I got into a gang fight.

I try to push it aside, but the feeling only grows more intense. Like a sixth sense.
My head darts around the hall, trying to locate the source.
Maybe it's just my brain playing tricks on me. I did gulp down glasses of alcohol.
But... it's unlike anything I've felt before. My brows twitch as my breathing becomes more and more laboured. I need to get out of here, I'm losing my mind again.

I slam the tray back and make my way to the restroom.

In an attempt to stop myself from strangling to death, I unbutton a few of the buttons from the shirt as it feels harder to breathe. I turn on the faucet, wash my face as my fingers tremble, and gaze up into the mirror. I brush my fingers through my hair when suddenly I feel a twitch. My hair instantly falls open. "Fuck," I whisper, looking at the snapped hair tie lying on the ground. I search my pockets for more but find none.

I rush over to the door to leave, but the knob doesn't budge. "What the fuck," my throat is dry, sweat beads forming on my forehead as I struggle to open the door.

I try to turn the knob once more but fail.

It's locked from the outside.

It's locked

It's locked.

Panic surrounds me in an instant. My hands bang loudly against the door. "Is anyone there?!"

I keep banging.

My phone. I reach into my pockets, only to realise I left it at the counter.

Fuck.

I violently rake my hands through my hair.

"Is anyone there?!" I scream, banging continuously on the door.

A low footstep sound reached my ears, and my hands froze midair.

I know I didn't imagine that.

There's someone out there.

I can sense it.
I can sense it I can feel it.

"Who's out there?!" I turn the knob violently.

"Who the fuck is out there?!" I scream, banging on the door again and again.

I know I'm not imagining things.

"Open the door!" I continue to pound on the door violently and desperately until my hands grow weary, eventually causing me to stop.

My legs give out, making me slide onto the ground, my hands covering my face. I never should've drank.

It's my fault.

It's always my fault.

"Argh!" I scream in frustration, punching the wall next to me. My eyes land on the enormous mirror in the middle of the wall. I stand up and slowly walk up to it. Beads of sweat cascade down my temples. As each second ticks by, the air feels heavier, making it difficult to breathe, and tears well up in my eyes. They spill down my cheeks as I punch the mirror aggressively until it crushes into pieces one by one. The sharp sound of glass shattering fills my ears as the pieces crash to the ground. I scream at the top of my lungs, my knuckles start to bleed but I don't stop.

I can't stop.

My mind is a tidal wave of enormous emotions.

A click from the door makes me freeze. I pause and slowly turn around.

The door was opened.

My brows furrow as I tilt my head, giving it a long, hard stare. I rush straight to the door and walk out, my eyes searching everywhere. "Who's there?!" My breathing becomes frantic as I scream.

Nothing.

There was nothing but the muffled music that had been emanating from the party hall.

My eyes suddenly dart to the floor. There was an envelope lying on the ground. My heartbeat quickens.

I slowly reach down and grab it, my hand trembling.

It looked newly crafted. I could smell the charred scent of the burnt paper. I toss it around, there is a red seal with a wilted rose carved on it.
Drops of blood trickle down my fingers and onto the envelope, absorbing into the paper. My hands reach into my pocket for the knife, and I cut it open.

With shaky hands, I take out a paper folded into quarters. I slowly unfold it.

Beautiful cursive calligraphy in crimson is elegantly inscribed on the burnt paper, its curves and loops standing out against the charred edges. My eyes slowly scan the words.

"You never ever failed to look beautiful, little lamb."

☽

Guys, what did you think about the whole Harry spitting on Chris Pine situation?
I know he didn't do it, but it was hilarious asf😭💀😭💀😭

Also this is 2,974 words currently and I'm gonna write shit till it's 3,000.

Hello, future me, how are you after watching Don't Worry Darling? Hope you're still alive.

If you liked this chapter, please consider giving it a vote.

Thank you so much for reading, I love y'all (:

                                                     -A