CHAPTER ONE
1278 Words
CHAPTER ONE
Adelaide looked at herself n***d in the full-length mirror, trying not to frown. She turned one way, then the next, tilting her head and studying her form. She forced a smile, flashing dental-strip whitened teeth, her scalpel-sculpted cheeks turning up.
Her nose didn't bunch like it used to when she smiled. She held the expression for a moment, turning again in the reflection. Small blue fairy-lights outlined the mirror, and the pinpricks of light reflected off the metal bar of the clothing rack behind her.
Someone knocked on her trailer door, a hollow, tinny sound. A voice called, “Ten-minute warning! Ten-minute warning!”
“Almost ready!” she called back.
But Adelaide made no move to get dressed. Something was still off... She couldn't quite place what. Her doctor had fixed the way her nose bunched when smiling, but now... She leaned in, her breath fogging the glass, the blue fairy lights bright in her eyes. She could just about make out the scars beneath her breasts as she leaned in—though she'd had multiple laser treatments to remove the evidence of plastic surgery.
Work had been done on her eyes, her nose—twice, her cheeks... That was only the beginning. Standing there, examining herself, Adelaide didn't see the same thing others did.
Her memories were too strong for that.
She reached out a finger, tracing it along the mirror, faintly, not wanting to smudge. The glass was cool against her skin. Her hair was still somewhat damp from the shower. Her towel lay in a puddle near the trailer door. The window behind the clothing rack was open, cracked. She didn't mind if someone looked in and saw her.
In fact, she quite liked it.
How many years had she been short, fat, ugly little Addy... Thank God her family came from wealth. She'd had her first corrective surgery at the age of fourteen. Slowly, but surely, over time, she'd grown quite beautiful beneath a surgeon's scalpel.
So what if they stared?
She could hear the sound of the voice from earlier, shouting nearby, through the window. “Ten-minute warning, everyone! Cameras, are you ready?”
She smiled now, the first authentic one in a while.
Cameras. She never would have guessed as a child she'd one day find herself in front of cameras for a living. From short, dumpy, and ugly, to a fashion model. This would be her second photoshoot—but jobs were lining up now. Her dreams were finally coming true.
She stared into the mirror, smiling radiantly, and doing her best not to see the many, many flaws that still needed addressing.
Oh well... One step at a time, she supposed.
She turned from the mirror, towards the clothing rack, reaching for the outfit the director had chosen for the day's shoot. Quite skimpy, with frills and lace more than fabric. But she'd worked for her body—the sort of body that put other women to envy, and men to l**t.
She didn't mind flaunting it occasionally.
She heard a quiet tap on the window behind her, and she frowned without looking back. “I said I'm coming!” she yelled.
Then, she heard the sound of the window sliding open. She stiffened, standing n***d and exposed in the mirror. She glanced in the reflection and her eyes went suddenly the size of saucers.
A man in a ski mask was climbing through her window. His head dipped under the sill, one hand braced against the cheap wood, holding it up. His legs already straddled the divider, and the fellow was already half inside the room.
For a moment, Adelaide didn't believe her eyes. She just stared at the intruder, mouth unhinged, goosebumps erupting across her bare skin.
Then, she began to scream. At the same time, she spun on her heel, sprinting towards the door to her trailer.
But the man was quicker. He lunged through the clothing rack, sending jackets and a couple of Gucci purses scattering. He tackled her around the waist, bringing her to the ground with a painful thud.
She gasped, trying to draw breath to scream again, but his hand—gloved in thick leather—scrabbled for her lips, holding her mouth sealed. She tried to shout again, kicking and bucking her hips, but he jammed his fingers into her cheek, sending a blossom of pain across her face.
His thick body stifled her, pinning her to the ground.
She tried to scream, to speak, to bite the fingers against her mouth, but he was too strong. He held her for a moment, panting on top of her, his knees pressed to the ground on either side where he sat on her stomach, holding her down.
With her free hands she was beating and scratching at the man's chest, but he ignored the blows as if they were little more than branches in the wind.
His chest heaved in a faint sigh as he exhaled at the ceiling as if offering up some silent prayer. Then, his ski mask tilted, his head with it, his eyes blazing from the gaps in the course cloth as he stared at her.
He held a gloved finger to his lips, his other hand still gripping her cheeks.
She tried to bite him again and this time managed to score a nip. He huffed, jerking his hand back in pain. She let out a strangled shout, but the sound was cut off halfway as he smothered her face with a hand again.
He leaned in now, adjusting his hips and slipping his other hand towards his waist.
Her stomach jolted; she felt a surge of terror. But the horror only increased as she watched him draw something long and sharp from his belt.
A knife. A wicked, curved blade like some prop in a movie.
He tapped the knife against her nose, the cold metal chilling her skin.
“No more screaming,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Promise?”
She swallowed but nodded hurriedly.
He withdrew his hand, and she went still, staring up at him. Did she recognize him? No—no she'd never seen him before. Unless... Fear flared, and she let out a yell. “Heeeelp!” she screeched.
He slammed his hand back. His eyes blazing behind the mask. “You promised,” he snarled.
And then the knife flashed down. She felt a sharp, jolt of pain in her chest. Her eyes bugged; this time, he released his hand again and she tried to shout. But the pain blossomed through her bosom, along her side. She tried to gasp for air, but it wouldn't come. She tried to speak, but she had no breath left for words.
“Sorry about your lung,” he murmured, tapping a b****y knife against his lips, leaving a smear of red across the skin visible in the hole of the mask. “But it isn't right to lie. Liars don't get a happily ever after, do they?”
Her eyes fluttered, pain exploding through her abdomen. Hot, white lances of agony twisted her body. She tried to shift, to screech, to move, but none of it mattered. Her strength was fleeing. Sticky, wet warmth spread down her bare stomach.
“Good princess,” he whispered above her. “What a lovely face... you cheated, though. Didn't you? Cheating, lying... Tut tut.” He had an almost musical, sing-song quality to his words now. He tapped her on the nose again in a playful sort of gesture.
And then brought the knife flashing down once more. This time towards her face.
- Writer
