Page 65 of Shamed
I willed something to happen, begged for the universe to intervene, even though it shouldn’t.
But all I got was Mase plopped on my path to walk me home, along with all the guilt associated with it.
I don’t know why I’m surprised by that. It’s rather fitting, really.
The heavy thumps of my heart bashing against my ribcage sound in my ears as I grab another section of hair and wrap it around the wand while staring at myself in the mirror. My gray eyes are dull and lifeless tonight, not that they’re usually full of life these days. But even the makeup lights surrounding the mirror can’t brighten them up.
I tried my best to cover the dark circles surrounding them, but they’re painfully present under this lighting. At least it will be darker in the room.
Darker. Secluded. Closed in.
My stomach roils.
I can do this.
Melody, wearing a purple glittery bikini set, comes up behind me and grips the back of my chair. “You doing okay, girl?”
I nod, forcing a smile that looks a little demented. “I’m fine.”
Melody clucks her tongue. “You’re a bad liar, honey.” Taking the curler from me, she takes over doing my hair. “I’m going to do my best to stay nearby, so if something happens like the last time . . .” She gives me a pointed look through the mirror that says everything without actual words. “But there’s only so much I can do without Chester throwing a fit.”
That familiar pang stabs my chest from her kindness. “It’s okay. You don’t need to do that.”
“I know I don’t need to.” After checking her watch, she curses and hands the curler back to me. “I need to get out there.” With a final lingering glance at me, she dips her chin, then walks through the door of the changing room.
I can do this.
As I finish up the last section of hair, I can’t help but wonder if I should have attended another one of Mase’s classes before tonight, in case I need to defend myself.
I’ve been resisting going, telling myself that I can’t accept his help to better my life more than I already have.
During one of our nights on my front steps, he told me that feeling physically stronger helps with feeling safer, then suggested I do a few workout sessions each week to improve my strength. He even told me about some of the female trainers at his gym who might be a good fit for me if I were interested.
Of course, I said I wouldn’t be doing that.
I lean closer to the mirror, applying the last bit of my makeup just as Charity—one of the girls I’ve rarely spoken to—comes and leans against my vanity beside me. “Hey.”
She’s shorter than me, with petite features that make her look young and innocent. Very pretty. Her natural hair color is light brown, but she always wears a different colored wig for her shifts. Tonight, it’s a blue bob.
“Hi,” I answer, popping open my pink lipstick and glancing at her through the mirror.
“You’re in a private room tonight, right?”
Pressing my lips together to make sure the color is even, I turn and look up at her. “Yes. You?”
Charity shakes her head, then leans closer, looking over her shoulder as if to check if anyone is nearby. “I have something if you want a little help . . .”
“What?” I ask, my brows pinching together.
“I heard through the grapevine that it can be pretty tough for you.” Her voice lowers further. “If you want, I have something you can take so you’re relaxed.”
I pull back. “You mean drugs?”
Diluted memories flash through my mind: darkness and dizziness, the damp ground beneath me, limbs that don’t work.
The last time drugs were in my system, I didn’t have any control over myself, and I was sexually assaulted.
“Shh.” Charity gives me a disapproving look before peeking over her shoulder again. “You know Chester likes us sober when we’re working. It’s just . . . some days are tough for me, too. So, I take one of these, and it helps me get through it, you know?” She holds out her hand and reveals a little pill.
