Page 14 of To Hell

That’s enough for now.

I have moved past the phase of my life when the things I liked mattered more than the things I should do.

It’s not about liking anything anymore. It’s about doing what is fucking necessary.

Her future is hanging on me keeping my cock in my pants. I cannot allow her to get under my skin or let her think she can build a world around me. It will not end well for her.

I didn’t fucking get her out of that nightmare to ruin her chances at the happily ever after she has always wanted. The one she had always dreamed of.

“I will, huh…” I clear the shrapnel in my throat, lost for words. “I will leave you to clean up. Come down for breakfast,” my eyes slip to her pussy still on display, and I cuss under my breath, “For fuck’s sake, Zoe,” I click my teeth, and she mumbles, then closes up.

I don’t want to have to repeat myself. And a part of me wants to laugh, seeing a part of her still intact and alive. But I suck it in and slam my fort back on.

“Take your time,” I spin, sniffing the air infused with the scent of our bodies as I stomp out of her room.

Shame on me for letting that part of myself take over. I know what is at fucking stake, but I fucked her anyway.

I know what I must do now.

It’s nothing new, but I need to make it happen as quickly as possible this time.

For her sake and mine, before my cock blows things up.

Chapter Eight

ZOE

One eye is on the pages of the fashion magazine, and the other peeks through my bedroom window for signs of my father in case he shows up earlier than usual.

It’s Saturday, and he is mostly overworked on this day of the week. However, I know him well enough not to allow myself to get too comfortable, even on afternoons like these.

I flip a page with a model who has been tagged a rising star, and I see why. Her grace on the runway, even in still photos, appears unmatched. With the right designer, it will be easy for her to rise to fame.

I keep flipping, eagerly wanting to get to the page where Valerie Moore is meant to be featured to discuss her next collection. She is my role model and for good reasons. Her style is sublime yet so different and perhaps provocative to most who do not understand its depth.

I smile as I see her picture on the page in a simple white beach dress with slits lined by black threads to highlight the charcoal of her hair. And then there is a rich blue sequence to line the neck, a subtle detail I think is intended to pop her sea blue eyes.

She doesn’t just make clothes. She makes personalities, and through her choice of clothes when interviewed, I can tell she is a simple, yet strong woman.

She is the kind of woman I dream to be someday.

I keep reading as she discusses the fashion industry's transition into a new phase and the need to foster young minds to keep it thriving.

Someday, I will be just like her. I smile, resting my arm on my sewing machine and my head on it, taken by the driving force of her motivation.

I read to the end, and she wraps up by saying… I shoot up, sitting straight.

There is a contest!

I stand from my stool, stumbling over myself as I go to my bed, refusing to take my eyes off the page.

Valerie Moore is hosting a contest for aspiring fashion designers. The winner will showcase their work at Milan’s Fashion Week and intern in Valerie’s fashion studio.

I hop on my bed, squeaking in elation.

Yes, yes, yes!

All I need to do is enter the contest. I will give it my best shot, dig deep into my well of inspiration, and come up with something that will undoubtedly get me to work with her.

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