smiled gently, her fingertips caressing the mounds of scar tissue on both sides of her mouth.
A year had gone into her preparation.
At first, Dani didn’t know the goal, the objective. As she'd built herself up through exercise, discipline, and research, the goal slowly became clear to her. Tears no longer spilled. She'd kept Teddy's duvet to this day, but it no longer emoted the feelings it had in the aftermath of the massacre. Even looking in the mirror didn’t have the same effect anymore. Initially, she couldn’t look at her reflection; tears were automatic on seeing her visage. Now, she didn’t give it a second thought, merely turning the emotion into rage, a rage she buried deep. When the time came, it would emerge. Every time she stroked the scar lines in her face, it fuelled her, added to the vengeance building within.
She'd evolved. She no longer saw Danielle.
Not a teenager or a kid or a promising student, nor a daughter to two devoted parents.
She saw no one, a shadow, a blur. Someone she no longer recognised.
She'd evolved. Into what, she still wasn't sure yet.
Only time would reveal the answer.
A day ago, time delivered. Dani ran her fingertips gently down her stomach, across her waist, up between her breasts and over her shoulder. Sinewy muscle, every inch of her golden body was like granite. She touched the scar on her waist, a thin pale line of damaged skin. For months, that very scar had burned with anger, itched with vehemence. She gazed in the mirror, looked at her Chelsea grin and ran the plan through her head one more time.
Preparation is everything.
A burning raged within her, her mind focused and clear. She stepped to the bed and collected the list.
Reading the names, a crooked smile full of malice crossed her lips.
She was ready.
THIRTEEN
"You're a fucking dickhead."
"I'm telling you, that chick is giving you the eye. Go over and say hello."
" Fuck you ," Corey Cross yelled as he necked a shot of tequila and licked the salt covered rim of the glass. His face screwed into a grimace. His hazy, alcohol tainted eyes searched the darkened room for the mystery woman his colleague was alluding to. The strobe lights flashing in time to the thumping techno music weren’t helping his cause.
Alan Cahill gulped a quarter of a pint of beer and wiped his lips, stroking his ragged moustache with his sleeve. He pointed across the room, roughly in the direction of the woman, his alcohol fuelled confidence affecting his motor functions. He leaned in close to Corey. "I'm telling you, the chick in the leather coat with the dyke haircut is giving you the eye. I want you to go over there and take her home. I'll give you twenty bucks if you fuck her."
Corey downed another shot of tequila. "Twenty? Try thirty."
Alan nodded. "Done."
Corey climbed off his stool, staggered and balanced himself on the bar. Using his left hand, he slicked his hair back onto his greasy head and put on his best smile. The effect was two scrunched lips forming a crooked grin, which only emphasised his yellowing teeth rimmed with plaque, his gums receding from the poor hygiene. He straightened his clothing, hoisting his loose jeans to his waist, ambled across the room, head bobbing to the music, and finally set his eyes on the woman.
"Hi," he said.
Dani knew Corey was going to approach before she sat down. She was wearing a tight leather jacket with a white t-shirt that stretched tightly across her toned form, riding just above her belly button. The starkness of the shirt enhanced her tan and perfectly accompanied her belly button ring, a double diamond that hung provocatively. Her blue jeans, Dani's preferred attire, created curves in all the right places. As she sipped her orange juice through a pink straw, she eyed her foes at the bar. She tugged on the short, blonde wig that hid her long, brown locks. It held firm.
Is the makeup good enough?
It will be.
You've never tried it before.
The scars aren't visible
A year had gone into her preparation.
At first, Dani didn’t know the goal, the objective. As she'd built herself up through exercise, discipline, and research, the goal slowly became clear to her. Tears no longer spilled. She'd kept Teddy's duvet to this day, but it no longer emoted the feelings it had in the aftermath of the massacre. Even looking in the mirror didn’t have the same effect anymore. Initially, she couldn’t look at her reflection; tears were automatic on seeing her visage. Now, she didn’t give it a second thought, merely turning the emotion into rage, a rage she buried deep. When the time came, it would emerge. Every time she stroked the scar lines in her face, it fuelled her, added to the vengeance building within.
She'd evolved. She no longer saw Danielle.
Not a teenager or a kid or a promising student, nor a daughter to two devoted parents.
She saw no one, a shadow, a blur. Someone she no longer recognised.
She'd evolved. Into what, she still wasn't sure yet.
Only time would reveal the answer.
A day ago, time delivered. Dani ran her fingertips gently down her stomach, across her waist, up between her breasts and over her shoulder. Sinewy muscle, every inch of her golden body was like granite. She touched the scar on her waist, a thin pale line of damaged skin. For months, that very scar had burned with anger, itched with vehemence. She gazed in the mirror, looked at her Chelsea grin and ran the plan through her head one more time.
Preparation is everything.
A burning raged within her, her mind focused and clear. She stepped to the bed and collected the list.
Reading the names, a crooked smile full of malice crossed her lips.
She was ready.
THIRTEEN
"You're a fucking dickhead."
"I'm telling you, that chick is giving you the eye. Go over and say hello."
" Fuck you ," Corey Cross yelled as he necked a shot of tequila and licked the salt covered rim of the glass. His face screwed into a grimace. His hazy, alcohol tainted eyes searched the darkened room for the mystery woman his colleague was alluding to. The strobe lights flashing in time to the thumping techno music weren’t helping his cause.
Alan Cahill gulped a quarter of a pint of beer and wiped his lips, stroking his ragged moustache with his sleeve. He pointed across the room, roughly in the direction of the woman, his alcohol fuelled confidence affecting his motor functions. He leaned in close to Corey. "I'm telling you, the chick in the leather coat with the dyke haircut is giving you the eye. I want you to go over there and take her home. I'll give you twenty bucks if you fuck her."
Corey downed another shot of tequila. "Twenty? Try thirty."
Alan nodded. "Done."
Corey climbed off his stool, staggered and balanced himself on the bar. Using his left hand, he slicked his hair back onto his greasy head and put on his best smile. The effect was two scrunched lips forming a crooked grin, which only emphasised his yellowing teeth rimmed with plaque, his gums receding from the poor hygiene. He straightened his clothing, hoisting his loose jeans to his waist, ambled across the room, head bobbing to the music, and finally set his eyes on the woman.
"Hi," he said.
Dani knew Corey was going to approach before she sat down. She was wearing a tight leather jacket with a white t-shirt that stretched tightly across her toned form, riding just above her belly button. The starkness of the shirt enhanced her tan and perfectly accompanied her belly button ring, a double diamond that hung provocatively. Her blue jeans, Dani's preferred attire, created curves in all the right places. As she sipped her orange juice through a pink straw, she eyed her foes at the bar. She tugged on the short, blonde wig that hid her long, brown locks. It held firm.
Is the makeup good enough?
It will be.
You've never tried it before.
The scars aren't visible
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