Page 27 of The Favorite Girl

“Hey Becca, how long have you been working here?” I asked. Uneasiness was still churning in my stomach considering I had just seen a woman hemorrhaging out on a swing in the middle of a garden and my new employer was insisting I had done it.

“Two years,” she answered without moving her eyes or hands from my hair.

“Do you like it?”

She froze and looked back at me through the mirror. “I used to live in a group home. A different kind of hell. The Ivory family took me in, and I have everything I could ever need.”

“Are you a maid, too?” I asked quietly.

“No. I’m a keeper and beauty expert.” Becca straightened her shoulders and pursed her thick lips that were painted in a strange nude color.

“What’s that?”

“Demi, the less questions you ask… the less answers you’ll need and the better off you’ll be.” She took a small brush and neatly combed the tiny hairs across my hairline.

“Done!” She beamed and placed her hair tools neatly across the vanity in front of us.

“Look, for girls like us…” Becca murmured and glanced around. “This place is a safe haven for girls like us, the ones who come from nothing but a background of intense trauma. You’re not here to dissect the family and their hobbies or tendencies. Clean, eat, exercise, and enjoy living in Charlotte’s largest estate with the most prestigious family.”

Becca busied herself while I mulled over her answer. “Your outfit is hanging in the powder room, and your cleaning supplies are right outside the door. Follow the hall all the way down and make the first two lefts; you’ll end up in the peony garden.”

“Okay, thanks, Becca.” I nodded and tried to absorb her words. She was saying the simple truth. This life was going to be a hell of a lot better than being slaughtered or raped in the middle of the night at some bonfire with a group of misfits that I belonged to.

Becca left me alone in the small room, and I quickly grabbed the hanger off the bathroom door. Unzipping the bag, I tugged out the short white dress, and to my surprise, found a white lace thong and a strapless white lace bra.

“What in the world? Why do I need to wear lingerie under my work clothes?” I laid it out on the bed and brushed my hand across the fabric.

Shaking my head, I peeled my nightgown off and put everything on. Standing in front of the mirror, I tugged on my white platform shoes and took a deep breath.

There I stood, wearing all white, with a sleeked back bun and no makeup. I reached to the vanity drawer, where I found a neat line of tubes of lipstick and lip balm. Glancing over my shoulder, I figured it’d be okay to put some on considering Mrs. Ivory ripped the dead skin off my lips with her fingers.

Grabbing a tube of lipstick, I rolled it up and looked at the creamy nude color. Maybe I should stick to some basic Chapstick. I didn’t know the rules about makeup, and I didn’t need to get into any more trouble. My trembling fingers grabbed the lip balm, and I quickly rubbed it against my lips.

Smacking them together, I turned and left the room, and just as Becca had said, there was a small white cart with a trash bin, a bucket full of what smelled like bleach and soap, and a mop, along with other cleaning supplies.

“Okay, Demi, you can do this…” I whispered to myself and began to push it in the direction of the peony garden. I was terrified of what I’d see. Did they remove her body? Had they really left all the blood there for me to clean in broad daylight? The estate was gated and secluded, but still… this was insane.

Once I made it outside, I slowly pushed the cart across the cobblestone path and dragged my feet to the spot we were in last night.

Standing still, I looked all around me in shock. The small swing was moving against the breeze, but it wasn’t the wind that was moving it.

It was a woman who looked just like…

“Hey, Demi, you totally skipped our date last night.” The girl slid off the swing and walked toward me. She was wearing the same long, gold gown, with the same makeup and hair. Everything was the same, minus a clear difference in her face. Her eyes were a little bigger, her nose slightly smaller.

“Misha, remember? We met last night.” She stuck her hand out and waved me toward the swing.

Glancing around the swing, there wasn’t an ounce of blood anywhere. Rubbing my head, my slicked-back hair started to hurt; it felt like my skin was crawling and my head was spinning.

“Are you sure? I swear… I swear the Misha I met last night was…” I looked around wildly as my panic rose.

“Are you alright, Demi?” She grabbed my hand and tugged me to the swing. Sitting down, my chest tightened. It was all meticulously clean. The fresh scent of peonies wafted throughout the air and not a single ounce of anything was out of place.

“Didn’t I do such a great job last night? The harp is a must to learn, and I’m sure you’ll learn it, too. I think they are going to pick you…”

I stared at the woman in front of me. Sure, she looked like Misha, but she sure as hell wasn’t her. Squinting, I could see a small scar run across her cheek that I knew without a doubt Misha did not have. I remember thinking how perfect and flawless her skin was. How her makeup looked like it had been done professionally.

“Okay, I’m about to catch my train soon but basically, you will be assigned to The Ossis wing. It’s the most private wing of the estate. Dusting is key. Dr. Ivory is very, very meticulous about dust. You also will be in charge of the pulchritudo floor, which is really Mrs. Ivory’s belongings and prized possessions. Pulchritudo means beauty and it will make sense when you get there. Make sure to use the boar brush only. She’ll lose it if she finds out you’ve used anything but that. Hmm… what else?” She tapped her perfectly manicured, blush-pink nails against her chin.

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