They’ve whittled me down to a shadow of who I once was.
At least in the confines of Amelia's house. Outside of these walls, people will know I'm in pain, but they'll never see just how much I'm broken.
A quote I read recently by R.H. Sin, one of my favorite poetry authors, floats into my mind. It gives me permission to feel whatever the hell I need to feel right now.
'Broken doesn't mean the absence of strength. Even the strongest souls alive know what it means to feel weak.'
My mind is so foggy I barely remember showering. The sour apple scent filling the space as I wipe the steam from the mirror proves I did.
Critically, I run my eyes over my body. Is this where he found fault? Does she look better than I do naked? Is that why he did it?
I cup my boobs in my hands as I study them. They're round, perky, and a decent C-cup. My areolas are about the size of a quarter and a pretty shade of umber, with nipples that aren't too big or too small.
I've got really nice boobs, so that isn't it.
Trailing my hand down, I run it over my stomach. There's a slight pooch I can grasp between my fingers, but I've never been self-conscious about it because Keaton always seemed to love it.
Maybe he was just good at pretending he did. Maybe he really wished it were toned and flat like hers.
A frustrated growl escapes me as I drop my hands and spin away from the mirror.
No. I am not doing this.
I fucking love who I am.
I love my body.
I love my personality.
And until a few days ago, I loved my damn life.
I march into the bedroom, naked and unbothered, catching Amelia off guard as she walks in with an armful of clothes.
"Give me something so sexy it shows Keaton exactly what he lost and makes him regret it. But also appropriate enough that the staff won't give me too much trouble before I witness his fall." After sliding on a lacy black thong, I quietly admit, "I need to look like a fucking queen, Mel. He smashed my heart, but I'm fighting to keep my confidence."
"I got you, girl." Amelia winks. "We're going sexy rockabilly, baby," she says, laying the clothes out on the bed and waving her hand in their direction.
After I'm dressed, I swirl one way, then the other, in the mirror, taking in the outfit she's picked out.
Sexy, sassy, and subtle, just like I asked.
A pair of black skinny jeans with a wide red belt hugs the lower half of my body, showing off the thick thighs Keaton used to love being buried between.
I turn to take in the back of the jeans, and my lips move slightly.
And honestly, these jeans make my ass look downright irresistible.
Amelia smacks it with a smirk. "Bootylicious, baby."
I shake my head at her antics.
Man, I love this girl. Through thick and thin, she's been there for me, and I'm not sure I could ever love her more.
The red, white, and black polka-dotted shirt shoves my boobs up so that the only thing you see is an abundance of cleavage. It's got a sort of hanging ruched design going around the top of it, and the sleeves rest a little off my shoulders.
She helps me into the black leather jacket and steps back with a wicked smile. "One last thing, and your outfit is all set, but we'll add those last. Do your hair and makeup while I run to get ready, and then we'll walk through campus to give them hell."
I have to admit, Amelia nailed it. This outfit screams me, and I look absolutely fire.
