Page 14 of August and the Night

I hear no answer from her room, and worry eats away at me. So, I open the door and enter, my eyes searching for her everywhere. She isn't in the bedroom but the sound of water permeates the air from the indoor bathroom; she must be taking a shower.

I sit on her bed, playing with my fingers as I wait for her to finish up. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, I hear the water turn off and wet footsteps padding across the floor.

The door opens, and I see her standing in the doorway with nothing but her robe on, her tall figure slightly slouched, her eyes tired and swollen, and her face bruised.

Immediately, my heart falls, and my eyes water. "Oh god, what happened, Lily?" I scream as I hurry out of the bed and rush to her side. My eyes dart all over her face, and I feel my chest pound at the possibility of this being because of me, my heart breaks for her.

"Who did this to you, Lily? Please tell me," I beg her, my voice desperate even to my own ears. I see her let out a little giggle, and I am left completely bewildered; who laughs in this state?

"I just fell down the stairs and landed on my face, silly," she tells me, her voice comforting as she strokes my hair to calm me down. I look into her eyes for any signs of deceit, but there seem to be none.

I am still not convinced, though, so I ask, "Did father do this to you? Did Oliver? Please tell me, Lily."

I hold her hands in my own and squeeze, desperate to know who hurt her. I may not be the strongest, but I will make them regret it, I will sacrifice my entire life just to see them hurt, and it doesn't matter if it is my own father. She raises my hands up to her mouth and kisses them before she whispers gently,

"I promise I just fell." She releases my hands and goes to her closet, giving me time to process her words. I see her picking out fancy nightgowns, and my eyebrows crease with confusion.

"Where are you going?" I ask, and she turns to me with a bright smile on her face, which is an extreme contrast to the purple and yellow bruises coloring her skin.

"Arthur has a business event today that I have to attend," she says to me, and I feel myself get a little sad. I just wanted to have quality time with her and talk about life, but as always, my dad has to hog her with business events the moment he is in town.

She seems to notice my frown and walks over to me, giving me a warm hug. I smile against her neck as I feel her comforting embrace, and she nuzzles her face into my hair.

"The moment the event is done, we will organize a girl's night, just you and me," she promises me, and I nod, trying to conceal my disappointment.

I break the hug and lean back to look up at her beautiful face, marred with the dark bruises, and my frown deepens. "You really just fell down the stairs?" I ask, and she nods, I feel slightly better now.

Still, I continue on to apologize to her for the trouble I caused, but she just hushes me down, telling me that the most important thing is that I enjoyed myself.

I say my thanks as I watch her grabbing her dress and belongings and heading out the door, going to get her hair and makeup done by her stylist. She kisses me goodbye, and I watch her make her way out the door.

She pauses on the doorway before she turns to look at me and mumbles with a hint of something I can't place, "Layla, please refrain from sleeping outside the house again, though." I nod to her, and she thanks me, blowing me a kiss and exiting the room, closing the door behind her.

15

August

I drive to the restaurant where Arthur Lexington is throwing his business party. My hands on the steering wheel are rough, veins popping out of my arm. I despise going to these events, surrounded by disgusting perverts. But I am willing to do anything to get my revenge, even if it means cozying up to the monsters in that room.

Arthur is a master of secrecy and takes meticulous safety measures to shield himself from potential incrimination. The restaurant he chose for the party is located in a secluded area, far from the prying eyes of civilization. Its remote location ensures that the attendees can indulge in their illicit activities without fear of exposure.

To further ensure confidentiality, Arthur demands that all guests surrender their phones to the reception upon arrival and be checked for recording devices before entering. This tactic prevents any potential leaks or recordings that could compromise his nefarious dealings.

The absence of digital evidence makes it nearly impossible for any incriminating information to be traced back to him. In this tightly controlled environment, Arthur operates with a sense of invincibility, knowing that he is safe.

I pull up to the entrance of the luxurious restaurant in my sleek black car, exuding an air of power and authority. The valet quickly approaches me, without a word.

I hand him the keys, a silent understanding passing between us. As he takes charge of the car, I step out. My eyes scan the surroundings, assessing the atmosphere with a discerning gaze. I know that I am stepping into a den of shadows and secrets, but as always, I am ready to face whatever lies ahead.

My powerful aura exudes confidence and control. I can feel the eyes of those around me fixated on my presence, acknowledging the authority I hold. The dim lighting and opulent decor add an air of mystery to the place, but I know better than to be swayed by the façade.

When I step inside, I can sense the unsettling energy that permeates the room. Powerful men with twisted intentions and perverse desires surround me. The air is thick with a mixture of arrogance, greed, and depravity.

I lean in close to the receptionist, our secret deal already agreed upon. "Remember, my phone stays with me," I whisper. My voice carries a mix of authority and threat. "And as discussed prior, you'll be rewarded handsomely for your cooperation." The receptionist nervously nods. Beads of sweat form on his forehead and he fumbles to conceal his fear. We both know the stakes are high. With my phone discreetly tucked away, I continue my confident strides into the restaurant.

Some men are lying on the dark-colored velvet couches, getting pleasured by women who look suspiciously young. The sound of sex permeates the room, and the smell of it is strong.

It's accentuated by the scent of cigarette smoke. Their twisted pleasures are on display for all to see as they openly indulge in their vices without a care for the consequences. The air is also tainted with the acrid smell of substances being consumed, and their glazed eyes and erratic behavior intensify my distaste.

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