The Poisonous Melaina

☔︎ How Does He Know Melaina ☔︎

LORELAI CAMPBELL

I've been staring at the device that should be blowing up with calls and messages. It's been two hours and fifty six minutes since I landed in Venezuela. Six hours and forty five minutes and he still hasn't called me.

What could he be doing?

"You know, I don't think there's enough technology in your brain to make him call you." Rae states calmly. I look up at her, she's lounging on the couch reading a magazine.

I look back down at the blank screen. He should call about how he misses me.

"Fuck him." I mutter and grab my phone off the bed. I get up and stomp to the bathroom. I throw it down the toilet and walk back out calmly.

"Another phone down the toilet?" Rae lowers her magazine and peers at me. I simply ignore her and walk to my closet. I push the red button that opens the doors up.

It reveals my luxury, right at my fingertips. Long fabrics, short fabrics, all stitched to make beautiful dresses. My eyes trail over all of them. A big part of who I am centers around the way I dress. The way I let other people see me. I will seldom wear white as it shows innocence and brings inferiority to a person. So when I slipped on the white sundress for the first time in thirteen years, it felt different. I felt small but also new.

When he told me I looked amazing, I ignored the feeling of accomplishment settling in my chest.

I knew I had what other girls wished to have and that was in no way trying to make myself better. I was just aware that there are other woman in world who would die to have my legs, my collarbone, my hair, my eyes, my lips, my voice. We all pick what we want out of others, all of us.

I would love to have Raeni's smile, rid of dimples. I would love to be shorter like Jade. I would love to be able to speak as much as Raeni. If I could have Jades slightly smaller feet, I'd be happy.

Would it really be happiness because I'd still want something else? I'll always have something I'm unhappy about. The best thing for me and my ego is to hold onto the little compliments I get.

Not many people approach me to tell me how I look. Call it envy, call it nervousness.

Ares is different. He approached me despite my glare, despite my words, despite me not wanting him. I still don't want him but it's nice to have a minion wrapped around your finger. It's nice to have him on his knees, waiting for you.

Really pathetic but amusing to see.

Ares breathes me, he drinks me, he sleeps me. I'm everything to him. His gorgeous lady in red. He knows nothing of me but absorbs everything I say. Each word, he analyzes and tries to figure me out.