You Know What They Do To Girls Like Us

“This entire day was bullshit,” April rolls her eyes as she flops onto my bed.

“I feel kind of stupid for thinking that it would actually be… nice?” Sara rubs her face from the couch in front of the fire.

“It’s not stupid, it’s hopeful. There’s nothing bad about being hopeful,” I pipe up. “We still have hope. We can find a way out.”

“How?” April suddenly bolts up with a look on her face that makes me shrink back. “If you haven’t noticed, this entire building is surrounded by a giant stone wall, there is security everywhere, we have fucking trackers inside our skin.”

Everyone stays silent.

We had gotten back from our “trips” about an hour ago and we had congregated in my room to talk. Turns out that the masquerade ball is tonight. With everything going on, I had completely forgotten about the dreaded evening.

“The masquerade starts in an hour,” Sara sighs. “We should get going.”

“Oh God, the masquerade,” April groans and rolls over so she is face down on my bed.

“Come on,” I poke her. “Who knows what they’ll do if we’re not ready in time.”

“True,” she sighs.

I watch the girls file out of my room without another word. And all of a sudden I am alone again. I feel absolutely nothing and I hate it. Taking my dress from the hanger in my closet, I begin the process of getting ready.

Over the course of the half hour it takes me to prepare everything I can do on my own, I come to realize something. Something that makes me want to punch myself in the face.

“Robin!” Paula’s voice trills from my bedroom. I step out of the bathroom to see her standing with two other people, who I assume are hairstylists give they are holding cases of hair related things. I can’t even recognize half of the things they carry. “Time to really get ready.”

I strain to return Paula’s exaggerated smile. The hairstylists wear equally painful-looking smiles.

The next half hours flies by as I zone out to the sound of the stylists’ buzzing about whether my hair should be up or down. They decide on a fancy up-do.

“You’re done, sweetie!” one of the stylists with eyebrows like the arches of Rome squeals.

Before I can see myself in the mirror, someone places my mask over my eyes. Through the eyeholes, I marvel at what stands before me. I look like one of those porcelain dolls you see on the shelves of little girls’ bedrooms. My mask covers only my eye area, so my face is still visible.

“It’s time,” Paula whispers next to me. I look to her and she nods.

As we walk to the door, I glance at the clock. Exactly 8pm. Taking a deep breath, I follow Paula out into the hallway where Harry is standing in a tuxedo and a mask much like mine. Except his mask is plain white silk without any embellishments. I watch his green eyes take me in. He extends his arm to me.

“You look beautiful,” he comments as we walk down the hall, arm in arm.

“Thank you,” I reply. Thank God my mask hides my blush. Why am I even blushing in the first place? “You look quite dapper yourself.”

This causes him to laugh and I notice that he looks damn good in a tuxedo.

I find myself enjoying the support of his arm; just having something warm to hold onto eases my nerves.

Though my nerves quickly surface again when we step down the stairs and we stand facing what seems like hundreds of people in elegant gowns and suits.

I pause which causes Harry to tug at my arm.

“It’s going to be okay,” he mumbles into my ear, barely audible over the sound of the violinists and the pianist at the other end of the grand hall. I feel his hand on the small of my back. “Just stay close.”

“Harry, how good to see you!” a man with a dark green velvet mask greets Harry with an air of sophistication.

“Pleasure to see you as well,” I observe Harry respond with ease. “How is the oil industry?”

The oil industry must be good judging by the amount of grease he used to slick his hair back.

After a few minutes of conversation between Oil Man and Harry, we finally break apart and start heading to the ball room.

“That was painful,” Harry comments as we make our way through the crowd, exchanging polite gestures with all kinds of people.

“You seemed to handle it well,” I reply.

“Keyword: seemed,” he sighs. “I don’t even remember what his name is. All I know is that he is powerful and rich enough to be at this party, so I had best keep him happy.”

“Sounds accurate,” I say and notice that there is not a single woman in this room who is not wearing diamonds. “I don’t know how you did it; I zoned out completely. The oil industry must be good judging by the amount of grease he used to slick his hair back.”

“His hair probably accounts for half of the industry’s profit,” he chuckles.

We make our way into the ball room and I must admit that the staff did an amazing job with the decorating. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling reflect the bright lights, making the room look even brighter. The entire room seems to be made of gold, crystal, and ornate wallpaper. The entire ceiling is a giant mirror. I almost feel dizzy seeing the room upside down like that.

“Harry!” a voice is vaguely heard from a distance. Looking around, I spot a blonde head with a yellow mask slightly waving in our direction.

Harry gently presses the small of my back to direct me towards Niall who is standing next to Zayn and April. Who are standing next to Sara. Who is standing next to Louis.

“Oi, Harry,” Louis greets his best mate. I hold my breath as he turns to me, his eyes lingering on me from behind his red mask. “Robin.”

I nod and smile. Glancing up at Harry, I can see tension in his face.

I have a feeling this is not going to end well.

Notes

Sorry this update took so long! I'm trying, friends, I really am. As usual, school is the culprit of my delay.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! With Harry, Louis, and Robin in the same room, who knows what will happen? Let me know in the comments what you think! Thank you for reading. :)
~christi ellie