It's #writerwednesday and I'm excited to share a snippet of a story that I'm temporarily calling "Room 301."
This story is still in the making, but I've had so much fun crafting it and look forward to it coming to fruition. I hope you enjoy the little that I'm sharing with you today.
She made it home in less than 15 minutes. That was record driving time for what would normally be a 35 minute drive. Rushing into the house, she slammed the door behind her. Candice threw her keys in the bowl on the side table and ran upstairs to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, she begin sobbing uncontrollably as she grabbed a wash cloth, applied makeup remover and scrubbed her face. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and stripped down to her underwear. She turned around in circles inspecting her body. Satisfied that there were no bruises or any other peculiar marks, she removed her underwear and stared at them in confusion. She placed them at the bottom of the hamper, and jumped into the shower.
Candice stepped from the steaming shower and looked into the mirror again. Not seeing her reflection, she pulled a fresh tube of Roaming Red from her makeup drawer, underneath the sink, and begin drawing on the steamed mirror.
In big scrawling letters, Candice wrote the words “I HATE YOU, BITCH!” before putting the tube back into the drawer and shutting it closed tightly. She pulled a key from the medicine cabinet overhead and locked the drawer. Pulling the towel closer around her body, Candice walked back down the stairs to her office. Grabbing a piece of tape from the dispenser on her desk, she ran back up the steps, and crawled underneath her bed. Wiggling to the middle of the bed, she taped the key underneath the mattress.
Candice lay there for almost 10 minutes trying to calm her breathing and control her emotions. She knew that she was in over her head trying to handle things on her own. If her secret got out her life would be over as she knew it. And she couldn’t afford to allow that to happen for anything. Candice loved the life that she lived, she had worked hard for several years to construct it in the manner she’d grown accustomed to. She’d do whatever it took to preserve it…by any means possible was her motto.
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