Dirty Dark Secrets

00:03 - Blackmail

MAGNOLIA

I triple-checked myself in the mirror for any imperfection, but I didn't find any.

This had happened over ten times since the party started.

I've been trying to find an excuse to stay in the bathroom until my party is over.

Today is my eighteen birthday.

Since I was little, I had dreamed of celebrating it in Las Vegas or Paris, but right now, it only happens in my house. And that's even successful with the help of both my parents because if you ask me, I wouldn't care about birthday parties anymore. Just like I had skipped the past birthdays and spent the day in my room eating Doritos and watching scary movies with Eugene telling me he loves me.

This year was different, though; my parents wanted me to have fun as I used to before I became this strange version, so they brought it home. They hired the best catering and decorating service, got me a 72 inches cake from my favorite tv bakehouse, and invited every kid from school.

I was mad at them, but I had to appear normal while the guests were present. I have to be okay.

That means putting on my best smile and acting composed and pretty as the stylist mom had hired made me.

I panicked as much as I needed in the bathroom, but when I came out, facing Eugene, who stood outside the door, waiting for me, I grinned broadly and pulled his nape down for a brief kiss.

See! No one knows I was terrified of the crazy crowd in my house.

"Your mom said it is time to cut the cake." He whispered in my mouth when we pulled away.

"Must I? That thing is extraordinary. Where would I start from?" I scrunched my nose, and he playfully tapped the tip.

He was dressed in a blue smoking hot suit and shiny black shoes. His hair was styled neatly as always.

Eugene was gorgeous inside and out. And I love him so much.

"Don't tell me you're scared of your own birthday cake." He chuckled, pulling me closer to him and snaking his arm around my waist.

I rolled my eyes while we approached the backyard, where the party was taking place.

There is a live performance of cool music by the brass band while everyone enjoys themselves by the classy, organized tables.

Mom appeared from nowhere and snatched my wrist.

"Where have you been? Come, it's getting late, and you haven't cut the cake."

"I took some me time," I answered, smiling at Eugene.

"Okay! Eugene darling, I will have to steal her from you for five minutes." Mom politely informed my boyfriend, who smiled and excused himself.

"Where are we going?" I questioned when she led us back into the quiet house.

"You must change your dress before cutting the cake."

Mom was slim and tall; most of everything about me was obtained from her beautiful features, from the brown eyes and hair, our lying smile that always barely reached the heart, and the resistance which my dad also had.

"Is that necessary? It is just an activity that takes only three seconds." I moaned, just wishing everyone would leave, and I could have my own quiet.

"Of course, it's your eighteenth birthday. I know right now you don't care what it looks like and how it would look like, but believe me, someday you would care, and when that day comes, I want you to remember how much effort I made to see you smile." She finishes just by my bedroom door.

I sighed heavily and stared at her. "Thank you mom, I appreciate it." Faking a smile.

"Now, let's get you changed." She excitedly cheered, and I rewarded her with a reassuring smile.

"Mom, I can do that myself; just give me ten minutes max."

"Alright... I will be by the staircase waiting." She smiled small and kissed my cheeks.

When she releases my hands, she hesitates to turn and head back to the stairs.

But eventually, it happened; she softened the contemplating stare and left.

Breathing out a relieved sigh, I pushed open my bedroom door, seeking privacy and comfort.

But the first thing I noticed was the shadow sitting at the edge of my bed.

I've had nightmares similar to this; I've imagined horrifying things while awake, but this? It seems so real.

My heart ceased, I began to withdraw from the room.

I will not have another episode of hell.

"Don't dare move." They ordered.

So low, so deep, so husky, and so scary yet so familiar.

Dead in my track, I became immobilized, I couldn't move, I froze. My eyes were a wide pool of fear as the person reluctantly rose from my bed and began approaching me in soft, delaying steps.

When they stopped before me, the face was revealed.

I didn't have any thought or waste any moment figuring who the person was.

Because those eyes were too familiar, it appears every time I close my eyes.

Indeed it was him.

"Heard it's your birthday; wanted to give you a gift for keeping my secret." He told my shocked body.

There's something about the accent; it was thick and raw on every word he uttered.

"What?" I croaked.

"Come." He said and didn't wait; he grabbed me and held it in his big hand, closed the door after me with his free hand, and directed me into my own bedroom that was dark and chilling with him inside.

How did he get in? How is he here?

He sat me on the bed and stepped back two or three feet away.

I was still stupefied and terrified even though my breathing had resumed.

My eyes stared, frightened, as I was unnerved by his presence.

His long fingers work the buttons of his black shirt. I watched him shrug out of it, and hell did my breathing stop again.

The light was able to gleam through the windows and the balcony door. It gave me a satisfying view of what was in front of me.

It was a view I would've never believed existed if I wasn't witnessing it right before me.

He was gold, shiny, vibrant, and robust; his body was crafted differently from any human I've seen. From his face to toes, every curve was paid excessive attention.

His hair was the deep earthy hues, the shade of cinnamon that reminds me of a specific tea I had in London. It was ruffled in a flawless mess. In his turquoise blue eyes, which was a soft blue-based green, I saw the softness that shouldn't survive in the soul of a murderer. He had a very sharp and chiseled cheekbone and jawline. His nose was defined, and his mouth was so red, it reminds me of his father's pool of blood, only his we're attractive and desirable, so vigorous, so seducing.

He was confident, self-assured, and freed; he was both the villain and star of his own movie.

He had haunted me for years, and now he was in my bedroom, half-naked, advancing towards me.

What could he possibly want after the dirty secret he left me with?

My fingers dig into the soft duvet cover, watching him stop right before me after slipping out of his pants.

I didn't look down. I didn't have the guts and courage. But I felt him everywhere, cornering me from every angle.

His masculine scent that was of rarest favor invaded my sense. He was made perfect and heavenly, I was succumbing easily, but he was evil and shady and could show me what hell truly looks like.

I shouldn't think of him; I have to push away all that his presence is doing to my lower stomach, down to where I was beginning to sense my wetness.

But it was hard. His sight was consuming.

Then he lowered until he was on his knees and had his hands over mine.

I shivered from fear and something weird that was absorbing me inside.

Crave! I crave for him.

Not like this! Not right now! Not with this person! But our bodies do not discuss what they want with our brain, and so mine wanted the devil, and my brain wanted an escape.

When I remained gaped at him, my heart racing back and forth, he sneered, scanning my goosebumps skin.

"Take off your pantie." He commands, his accent so thick, I began to wonder how he sounded when he sang.