Page 3 of Poison's Promise

“Time to get ready,” I announce to no one, heading straight for the shower.

The hot water hits my skin, washing away the day’s frustrations. I let it soak in, cleansing more than just the grime. It feels like it’s rinsing away the disappointment, the anger, the constant waiting.

“Tonight, it’s about me,” I murmur, lathering my hair with my favorite citrus-scented shampoo. The scent envelops me, invigorating and fresh.

I step out, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel. My silver blonde hair drips onto my shoulders, but I don’t care.

I’m too busy rummaging through my closet, searching for that one dress.

“Ah, there you are,” I say, pulling out the little black dress that always makes me feel like a million bucks.

It’s tight in all the right places, accentuating my curves and giving me that boost of confidence I desperately need tonight.

“Let’s do this,” I whisper, slipping into the dress.

Next, I tackle my hair. I blow-dry it until it’s sleek and shining, cascading down my back in shimmering waves.

I remember the first time I had it bleached. My father was furious.

He couldn’t understand why I wanted to change my hair color from the raven black locks he has, but that was the point. I didn’t want to look anything like him.

A touch of makeup—just enough to highlight my cheekbones and make my eyes pop—and I’m almost ready.

“You’re not going to recognize yourself,” I tell my reflection as I apply a final coat of mascara.

With one last look in the mirror, I kick off my new shoes and grab my favorite pair of high-heeled boots from the closet.

They’re black leather, edgy and perfect for dancing the night away.

“Ready or not, world, here I come,” I declare, grabbing my purse and keys.

My phone buzzes again. Another text from Lila: “Leaving now. See you soon!”

“On my way,” I reply, locking the door behind me.

As I head out, I can’t help but smile. Tonight, I’m going to relax and have the time of my life with my best friend.

The bass thumps through my car as I pull up to the house party.

Lila’s already outside, waving at me with a wide grin.

“Polly! Over here!” she shouts, her voice barely audible over the music blasting from inside.

“Hey, girl!” I yell back, strutting over in my black dress and high-heeled boots.

She wraps me in a quick hug, her excitement infectious.

“Let’s get in there and have some fun,” Lila says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door.

The moment we step inside, we’re hit with a wave of bodies moving to the beat, laughter, and the scent of alcohol mixed with perfume. It’s chaos, but it’s exactly what I need.

“Drinks first?” Lila suggests, raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely,” I reply, following her to the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen.

We each grab a cup of something fruity and strong, clinking them together before taking a sip.

“To forgetting shitty days and living our best lives!” Lila toasts.

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