4

Helios dropped me back home. He didn't ask any questions, almost as if he knew what I'd seen— The receptionist had looked sorry when I left too. Like she knew too. And that was what made me feel even worse.

The fact that everyone seemed to know. Except me.

Or maybe I knew as well but refused to admit it to myself. Maybe I was stupid to think that everything was fine when I knew for certain that it wasn't.

But that's okay. I can fix this. I will fix this.

As much as I wanted to break down, crying as I curled myself up in the bed, I buried my emotions and the next day, hurried back to Clarissa's saloon. Naturally, she's confused about what I'm doing there again but when I tell her I need a makeover and show her a picture of Sophia, she's even more confused.

She makes it clear that Sophia and I have nothing in common with our facial symmetry— Her face is oval, mine is heart shaped. She has cat eyes, I have almond ones. Her palette has warm tones, mine has cool ones. Her style of makeup would not look as good as it should on me.

But I didn't care.

I had to look like her. I had to.

I left her saloon hours later looking nothing like I usually would.

I had cakes of makeup padded all over my face to match, at the very least, the natural pallor that Sophia had. My hair was different. My lips looked different. And yet, even with all that, I didn't look like her.

I couldn't stop myself from screaming at my reflection as the urge to smudge the madness on my face erupted inside me but I knew Ethan would be coming home soon for dinner and I didn't need him to think I was crazy.

Yes, I was running mad but my husband didn't need to see that. I had to be perfect. I had to be Sophia.

Yet… Yet, even now, as I sit in a slip dress that she's worn before in a fashion magazine opposite my husband, I feel hollow— Like a clown whose only purpose was to make children laugh and was managing to fail terribly at it.

Ethan has not looked up from his screen since the moment this dinner began, not even once. I want to say that this is new but I know it's not. I'm just no longer seeing him in the same rose coloured lenses like before.

Days of him having 'meetings'. Refusing to come home. Coming home and refusing to engage in any conversations with me. All of this I chalked up with him being tired. He had to be tired. Why would he not want to talk to me? And he was. Tired, that is.

Tired of banging my sister.

I ignore the disgust piling up my throat at myself as I rise from my seat and walk towards him. He doesn't notice me, not until I go on my knees and place my hand on his pants.

In one swift move, he's holding my wrist so tight I can feel it cracking under the pressure as he hisses, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

It's the first time I've seen him like this before. All the alarms in my head is going off as I stare at this man who bears not even a single resemblance to my husband as I try to speak, "I am just—"

"And what the fuck is on your face?" He spits the word out like their acid and I burn under his irritated gaze before he pushes me away. The burning sensation worsens and I can feel my entire veins light up on fire as he rises from his chair, his revulsion at me apparent. "God, you make me so fucking sick."

What?

I'm panting now as I watch him walk away, every fibre of my being unraveling to shreds. I crawl to him now, holding onto his pants now. "I don't know what I've done but I'm begging you, Ethan, please. I-I will do anything. I love you. Just want me as much as I want you."

He shoves a glass of whiskey down his throat and turns to me. His face is vicious, cruel and demeaning as he hissed, "Want you? What's there to want? You're fucking weak and pathetic. You're not even good enough for sex and nothing about you is slightly attractive—"

"I'll be like her."

He backtracks there. "What?"

I nod, rising from the floor as I try to smile. I'm shaking again, like I'm having tremors but I don't care. "I know… I know I'm not enough but I'll do anything for our marriage. No one will ever love you like I love you. Sophia wouldn't—"

I feel the sting across my cheeks before I can finish my sentence, white filling my vision as the slapping sound echoes through the room. In one swift motion, he's grabbing the back of my hair and forcing me to look at him now.

I can't help the pained cry that leaves my lips as I try to yank his hand away before he snaps, "Don't you ever say her name again with that dirty mouth of yours. Do you understand me? Trash like you doesn't deserve to say that name."

"Ethan," I can't help the sobs that pour out of my mouth as tears stream down my face and I sniff. "I love you. I r-really do—"

A flash of disgust crosses his face and he tosses me to the floor. He sweeps his hand through his hair now, saying under his breath, "I can't stay here any longer. I'm either gonna kill this bitch or myself,"

He's picking up his car keys and instantly, I'm back at his ankle again. The words pour out of my mouth as the mere thought that he'd abandon me fully this time sweeps through my head. I am nothing without him. I can't live without him. "Ethan. I won't complain again. I'll be good. I'll stay quiet. I'll—"

A sharp kick across my chest sends me back sprawling to the floor as air rushes out of my lungs. I gasp now, clutching it as needle-like pains pinch through my ribs as I struggle to breathe.

Something's wrong. Something's really wrong.

I can feel myself losing consciousness as I stare at the door. Ethan isn't bothering to even turn and look at me anymore. My husband… Doesn't care about me.

I stretch my hand out to him, trying to call out his name one more time as my vision begins to darken but it comes out as a whisper and everywhere goes dark.