Beneath the whispers

This is me, Bellatrix. I like to go by the name Bella, and I also like my hair newly styled, mustn't be over a week! I visit my nail salon every week, too. In fact, I am just done with this week's manicure, obviously on my feathery purple gown with a little ruffle on my shoulders running across my breast, low enough to reveal just a little cleavage and keep his mouth watering. He loves how purple contrasts with the warm beige skin tone I worked so hard to keep even. 

My steps would have been just like a runway model if I wasn't carrying a heavy cake and my heel was not an inch too high; I was supposed to practice this yesterday. Ugh - anyway, I won't let that get to me. I didn't forget to lace my small lips with reddish-purple lipstick. So loving how it matched my heel!

His apartment is on the sixth floor of the high-rise building in front of me, and the few minutes’ walk from the garage is already hurting my foot, but no, I still need the bright smile to complement the exoticness of my appearance. 

The elevator door opens on the sixth floor and thankfully his apartment is the first from the elevator. Looking at the writing on the cake I make it to his front door. It says, ‘Happy birthday honey-pie’. I smile wistfully, grinning inwardly at myself, and then a single knock before I remember that he gave me his key on my birthday. 

"I should get used to all this" 

I sigh, wiggling through my stone-laced reddish-purple bag with the cake trembling on my right hand. Finally, just before the cake slips, I find the key and pierce it through the keyhole, after I had made time to balance the cake again. Why is it so heavy, though? 

The door slides open really slowly that I had enough time to wonder if he was still sleeping or if he was by the kitchen counter making one of the signature breakfasts that he always woke me up with. I chuckle, stepping into the white tiles of his apartment. He is not in the kitchen, which would mean that he is still in bed. 

I smile inwardly, as my heel clacks on the floor in a rhythm heading to his room, my face beaming; my heart could barely keep a beat waiting for me to behold his six-foot figure bursting from his excitement when he sees what I have in store for him today. 

The door is slightly open. "He never closes the door after him", I mumble under my breath. This is the very flaw I haven't gotten used to. My gaze slides to his bed and lingers on it. My lids tear wider apart exposing my darkened brown eyes and the cake goes crashing on the brown tiles of his room and so did my heart. 

This very moment led me to an experience I would never have dreamt of. 

This is my story, and I hope you understand why I had to do anything I could to survive.