I had never worn a dress before in my entire fourteen years of existence. My god did it feel strange.

The gown hanging from my body was black and tight-fitted. It had thin straps and fell a couple of inches above my knees. I had picked this dress out from my infinite closet, which I had started calling 'the bottomless pit.'

I didn't exactly understand why it was expected of females to wear dresses to special events . Makeup artists and hair stylists were curling my blonde locks and applying powder to my face. I didn't like it, any of it. I had thought that maybe it would be fun dressing up, that I would feel pretty, but instead everything just felt strange and unfamiliar to me.

The reason I was all glammed up in the first place was because Bruce Wayne was hosting a party at the manor. More of a gala, really, considering how incredibly rich he was. But I was expected to look nice and presentable in front of all his guests.

Rumors were that even the Mayor would be coming. And most likely some famous celebrities, too.

The boys were all waiting for me downstairs in the living room. It was so strange how I always called it the living room, when in reality there were several throughout the mansion. However this living room was probably the main one, as it was the largest.

I made my way down the staircase clutching the rails. It was my first time wearing heels and I was highly uncomfortable in them. It felt like walking on stilts, even if they were only an inch or two high.

The makeup artists had given me what they called a "bronzey" look. The boys seemed to stare at me as I approached, so I guessed that they noticed it.

"You look lovely, Sasha," Dick said softly. I could tell he was trying to ease my nerves. I had been trying to hide the panic attack that was rising in my body, but clearly he had spotted it straight away. "Thanks," I muttered quietly.

Bruce joined us seconds later and gave a little pep talk on how to respond to cameras, reporters and inquisitive guests. I figured this was pretty normal for everyone besides me, they probably dealt with this every time they went out in public. It seemed like being famous was such a difficult life to lead. But then again, they had a huge house, and had enough money to buy anything they wanted.

So, compared to Midnight, it was nowhere near as difficult.

Half an hour later the first guests started arriving. The party (or gala) took place mostly in the "ballroom", but some visitors were scattered about the corridors and in other little rooms. My bedroom was high on the third floor, so there were no worries about any snooping guests finding the weapons underneath my pillows. At least, I hoped.

About an hour into the night I spotted a tired looking Damian by the drinks table, eyeing a shot glass. I tried to contain my laughter as I walked toward him. "I wouldn't risk that with all these cameras around," I began.

He looked at me. "Very funny."

We stood there in silence for a couple of seconds, before he quietly spoke, "So... are you enjoying the celebrity life?"

The question caught me a little off guard, I wasn't sure how to answer. "It's not... bad. I love having everything I could ever wish for with a snap of my fingers."

Then hesitantly I added, "but the fame's pretty annoying."

Damian grunted. "Yeah, you could say that."

Jason interrupted our little chat by calling out my name from across the room. "Sasha, there's a reporter who wants to meet with you. Come over."

I gave Damian a quick smile before walking away, noticing his gaze follow me toward the blonde woman and her cameraman. She introduced herself as Vicki Vale and took the time to ask about my experiences with the Wayne family. I answered in short responses, remembering Bruce's talk about keeping personal information away from the media.

I was interviewed a number of times throughout the evening, and introduced to many of Bruce's friends and colleagues. He was definitely a well known figure, that was for sure.

It also amazed me how attractive everyone around me looked. It was like I was on the set of a model shoot or something, because there was not a single person out of place in the whole mansion. Every woman had beautiful hair and long lashes while every man sported pearly white teeth and a perfect jawline. I felt so out of place with my scars and bruises, especially the visible ones on my arms that had been covered in thick foundation.

At only around 11 pm, I began to grow tired toward the end of the party. It was unlike me to feel so low at this time of night. I guess I just wasn't feeling the atmosphere.

There was too much noise - forks scraping, glasses clinking, lips moving. Everyone was laughing those elegant little posh laughs that rich people do, and it was irritating me. I didn't belong among those people. I was a freak in comparison.

I isolated myself to one of the many staircases in the house, sitting down in a little nook. i bit into a pink macaroon that tasted like heaven. Alfred really was an amazing chef.

Damian joined me a little while later, to both my surprise and relief. It seemed we were getting closer and he didn't hate me as much as he used to. I could safely say that he didn't frustrate me much, either, and that made me happy inside. For some strange reason, he was probably the only one who fully understood me out of all the boys. I didn't know why but it felt like we had lived similar lives. If not, the same.

I was jolted from my thoughts by the warm touch of his hand on my thigh. Glancing down I saw he was pointing at one of my ugliest bruises that was taking forever to heal. The makeup seemed to be wearing off as it barely did anything to hide it.

"How did you get this one?" The question was spoken way too casually for its nature.

I winced at the painful memory of my fathers boot clashing against my leg. "Slade," was all I said, hoping he wouldn't question me further.

I didn't like thinking about those memories.

Damian only nodded. It was weird how he never pushed me with questions. Any normal person would've, but it was like he knew when to ask and when to stop. Like he could read my thoughts clearly. It made me uncomfortable thinking about it.

I decided to change the subject and brought up school. "Have you completed the Social Studies essay yet?"

He shook his head. "I've been busy."

Doing what? I wanted to ask, but just like he had done, I decided against it.

Bruce eventually found us and forced us to escort the guests out of the front door. It annoyed me that I had to say goodbye to all these random people who had no interest in my wellbeing whatsoever. Hosting seemed like such a nightmare, I didn't know how the boys could do it so often.

Once everyone was out of the house, it was around 1 in the morning. I half heartedly tried to remove the stupid makeup from my face, but it was really layered on. I went through ten wipes before I was satisfied, then had to rake a brush through my hair-sprayed locks. I desperately wanted to shower and get all the residue off of my body. But i was exhausted, and the thought of having to stand for another five minutes killed me.

So I stripped off the dress and jumped into bed without bothering wearing pajamas. I think I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.

A short wave of bliss washed over me. Finally, peace and serenity.

But it was quickly replaced by nightmares. The old memories resurfacing once more, reaping me in an endless spiral of pain and suffering.

I'M SO SORRY I'VE BEEN GONE LIKE TWO MONTHS!!!!!

i have been so so busy and basically i've had no inspiration to write much. if u read some of my other books you will know that i have updated them a little, but that's because i have had more ideas for them unlike this lol. so sorry to everyone who has been waiting for new chapters. i am feeling creative lately so i promise some new stuff will be coming!

tell me what u think about the book so far. u can suggest ideas if u like, too, it would be really appreciated because sometimes i get stuck. also we're nearly at 2k reads so thank u all so much!

xo