Page 5 of Lock Up the Darkness

“Sure. Lemonade would be amazing.” I was still coming down from the sweat I’d worked up during the dinner rush and the polyester uniform really wasn’t helping matters, the white blouse and black pleated pants combo seeming to radiate heat.

“I meant alcohol, Aurora,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna get a martini. What’s your poison?”

“I don’t drink.”

She stilled, her brown eyes narrowing. “You’re in college and you seriously don’t drink?”

“Nope. Not my thing.”

It couldn’t be.

I needed to be stone-cold sober all the while I remained in this fucked-up town. Always aware of my surroundings, of every little thing. On high alert.

Her bubbly personality that she’d been throwing at me since I’d met her a couple of weeks ago faltered for a moment and she said rather brusquely, “So, you’re a goody two shoes?”

Who used that phrase anymore?

Either way, my refusal seemed to have hit a nerve. I just couldn’t determine the root cause.

Yet.

I looked up at her, the four inches she had on my five-foot-five height requiring me to tilt my head back to take in the full view of her. “I actually can’t. It interacts with my meds.”

“Oh.” She held up her hands. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed. Absolutely none of my business. I won’t ask any more about it.”

Good thing, because there weren’t any meds.

Note to self: add new detail to manufactured identity.

She headed off toward the bar, bounding along, her pink ponytail swinging from side to side as she went.

I took a glance around the college bar, the edgy gold and black booths and tables really giving it a sophisticated edge. Kind of out there for a college venue, but then again, Hexwood University was made up of fancy schmancy trust fund brats, so I could see the reasoning for decking it out this way.

With just a half hour to go until closing time, the place was dead, just one customer sitting in a booth over by the window nursing a coffee.

I called out to Liza as she started gulping down the martini one of the bartenders had made her, giving her a heads-up that I needed to hit the bathroom.

I pushed through into the back corridor and made a beeline for the closet of a room down the hall from the kitchen.

As soon as I was inside, I closed the door and sank against the stall wall, resting my head back and squeezing my eyes shut.

Centering myself.

I couldn’t wait to get home and rest, to be away from everything and everyone.

To be myself again, rather than this façade I had to maintain for every second I stepped outside in public.

It was mentally taxing keep the mask strapped on tight, accounting for every little thing, ensuring I kept to my manufactured identity and didn’t slip up even slightly.

To all those I encountered in Hexwood, I was Aurora Blackthorn, college student transferring into Hexwood University, just looking to finish up my studies.

I was playing up to the former version of me.

To the innocent and naïve little girl my dad had cherished.

To the sense of normal he’d fought so hard to create for me.

To the safely ensconced existence he’d shielded me with.

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