Page 24 of Dreadful
Igrew too fast for my age.
That thought’s been on my mind a lot lately, and it’s loud right now as I ready the dressing room for the actor’s return from the stage.
When I was just a child, my body was used against my will. It was my enemy, and then it betrayed me further when it suddenly filled out in all the wrong places, making me look more like a woman than a middle schooler. Baggy clothes were my safety against prying eyes.
But then I got to college and realized just how powerful a woman’s body can be.
Over the past four years, I’ve slowly honed myself into a weapon. My curves catch men’s gazes, my lips tell lies that lure them in, and my hands spill their blood. Self-defense and fighting classes, not to mention learning how to dress for my curves, gave me the confidence to get just about anything I want, whenever I want. Now, every time I leave the comfort of the bakery to prepare for my list, I dress the part.
A few weeks ago, I did just that to strike the three maids off of my list.
After studying the Family, I learned the new Mrs. Vincelli insists that her staff’s dress code match the aesthetic of her centuries’ old brownstone. Even though I made a perfect recreation of the maids’ uniform, the day I finally gathered the courage to slip into that dreadful house again, I was terrified I would get caught.
But no one batted an eye. I should’ve realized the Vincellis never notice “the help” until something goes wrong.
So virtually invisible, I snatched drapes from around the house, stuffed them in the oversized washing machine, and poured an entire bottle of bleach inside. I still smile whenever I imagine Mrs. Vincelli’s screams of frustration over something as trivial as fancy curtains.
The maids were gone the next day.
While I was trapped for weeks, they silently cleaned my room, clothes, and sheets. Only the pity on their faces alleviated some of my hate for them. As an adult, I realize that they were just doing what they were told. Like the butler, getting them fired was all I needed for retribution. Karma may be a bitch, but she’s a fair one. Hell, in my opinion, I did them a favor getting them away from a wretched family.
“Curtain call. Curtain call. All actors to the main stage.”
The announcer’s tinny voice buzzes into the dressing room, drawing me from my thoughts. It’s time for the actors to receive their applause, meaning they’ll be coming back to their dressing rooms soon. I’ve finished prepping this one, so I take a quick second and reapply the tinted concealer I keep in my messenger bag to counteract the ever-present redness along my jaw. My eye makeup still looks great. The liner, shadow, and lashes draw wandering eyes to focus on the intense hazel in my irises.
I’m pretty now. Some might even say beautiful. But growing up, I was the unintentional goth kid in the back of the classroom at Franklin Elementary. Other kids didn’t want to get to know the quiet new girl who dyed her hair jet black and dressed in baggy clothes. It didn’t help that they thought the heavy makeup I wore to cover my scar was weird. How could they know I only did all that because I had to hide in plain sight?
They thought I was an easy target, but I fought back. I never started anything, but I ended it. Sometimes even before it began, setting up traps to make sure the teacher noticed when a kid like one of the Flores cousins cheated. Of course, they never got in trouble thanks to who they were related to.
The capo.He and the driver have been on my list from the start.
The driver was the one who ran into our car fifteen years ago. At first, I thought it was an accident, but then Vinnie got out of the car, yanked me from my seat, and ordered the driver to take us back to Vincelli’s, leaving my parents to die. The driver is next on my list and shouldn’t be hard to find.
The only one I’ve lost track of is the capo. I’ve been learning everything I can about my future victims for months. Even these pricks in organized crime are dumb enough to have social media. A few posts, selfies, and pictures show patterns and reveal more than the poster intends. The capo, however, has been off the radar for days. Once I do find him, though, I’ll be ready.
I give myself a once-over in the mirror and nod.
“Good enough.” I tuck the concealer into my costume apron and leave the room to watch the actors receive their applause.
I stand safely behind the act curtain as they proceed out onto the stage. The crowd goes increasingly wild, and a smile lifts my face.
The Secret Gardenrequires mid-nineteenth-century period pieces, and they went off without a hitch tonight. The makeup I taught my actors how to do themselves went perfectly, and the audience was completely immersed in the production. Seeing the work I put into the production executed so beautifully gives me a rush of accomplishment.
I don’t know if anything can top that morning in the garden, though.
Since I left the Vincellis’, that feeling has waned, so now I make sure to soak in all the hard work the cast, stagehands, and designers have put into this show. This costume design position is my first real job since graduating. I’d been sure that I would be relegated to an internship position to help the cast, but I’m getting paid to work alongside the costume director herself.
As the actors bow, the crowd applauds wildly, loving the funny dances and little touches the players perform when their name is called. I scan the theater, enjoying the satisfaction on all the faces…except one.
The man is front-row center and still sitting down. His fingers are steepled in front of him, propped up by his elbows on the armrests and he stares blankly at the stage. It’s clear that he isn’t the slightest bit interested and probably hasn’t been since the opening scene. I stare for so long the actors begin to leave the stage. The overhead lighting in the theater turns on, and I can see him clear as day.
“Sev…” I whisper under my breath.
As soon as his name leaves my lips, I swear he looks right at me. There’s no possible way he heard me, and I’m not even sure he can see me, but I duck farther behind the curtain just in case. My mind reels with questions and possibilities, and I don’t dare peek around the drape again.
What’s he doing here? Is he with someone? I’d totally forgotten that he heard Gio talk about the show, but he obviously wasn’t interested in the play. So why is he here?
Is he here for me?
