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disguise their appearance,216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfqRs9Hor4a
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making them look like something else. 216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9FnPtBz3Ng
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Usually to blend in with their216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvtrXfvZLK6
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Everyone at the tables demeanor changed due to Mr Rohan's words. A tension grew in the atmosphere that everyone except Mr Rohan seemed to notice. He was oblivious to the changing mood as he continued to speak "Even though Gabriel is gone. You are still my son. We're family."
Gabriel. The name ringed a bell in her ears. She knew she had heard it somewhere.
But where?
And what did Mr Rohan mean by "gone" did Gabriel travel? Or is he dead?
"Right Nur?" Mr Rohan inquired seeking for backup
"Y-yes dad. Of course" Nur nodded hesitantly. "Oh the food is here" Nur exclaimed evidently happy for the change of topic
Woman dressed elegantly in modest uniforms, placed plates of food on the table. Naomi's eyes widened as she scanned the dishes scattered across the wooden table. Their were a variety of foods that she herself couldn't name. Foods she had never seen nor tasted in her lifetime. A variety of drinks were on the table too. Alcoholic? She hoped not.
Out of the blue a bowl of soup was placed before her. Its aroma whizzed through the air and invaded her nostrils. Wasn't she supposed to order what she wanted to eat?
"Sahtain" Naomi raised her head from the table and looked at Mr Rohan. His hands were raised and their was a spoon in his hand. Her eyes widened slightly. She snapped her head down to the bowl of soup before her. Besides the bowl were a variety of spoons, forks and knives.
She didn't understand why there were a variety of utensils. It made no sense. They all looked the same in her eyes.
Couldn't they just eat with their hands?
She gulped as everyone picked their spoons and dug into their food. She needed to decide before anyone noticed.
Naomi did the rock paper scissors game in her mind trying to figure out which spoon to pick from.
She hesitated as her hands hovered around the spoon that had caught her eye. As elegantly as she could manage, she picked it up and pushed it into the bowl watching mesmerized as the variant colours of liquid faught their way onto the silver ornament. She raised the spoon up to her mouth, lifting her head in the process just to find the gazes of the whole table solely on her.
She froze. The spoon still dangling in the air. Colour drained from her face. She looked down at the spoon and back up at everyone at the table.
Did she do something wrong?
They stared back incredulously their eyes openly judging her.
Had she chosen the wrong spoon?
At this point discarding the utensils and using her hands would have been a better option.
"You use your left hand?" The question seemed rhetorical. As if their were some deeper meaning. Some hint being given to her but she couldn't seem to grasp it.
She gazed at the spoon in her hands and looked back up at him.Her mouth refused to move, at the fear of babbling, she decided to keep it that way. She settled for a nod.
Mr Rohan seemed to freeze for a second as if analysing her answer. Their was no camouflage to the discontent he harboured. "It is unclean" he said simply.
Her brows furrowed.
What was unclean? She laid down the spoon into her bowl. Her hands shook under the table. Her pulse racing as if it were an elephant that had set eyes on an ant. Her cheeks flushed as the whole table waited for her response. They simply stated at her. She felt warm, soft hands find hers under the table. She recognised them in an instant.
He placed her hand on his lap and squeezed it in silent comfort and she squeezed back. "Do not blame her. I myself should be blamed for I did not inform her of this. It is not uncommon for her to use her left hand for she is left-handed. She means no disrespect towards you. I apologize on her behalf." Naomi released a breath she didn't know she was holding, a small smile crawling up her face. She squeezed his hands once more.
He didn't squeeze back.
She raised her head to look at him but he wasn't looking at her, his eyes were on the woman with the orange sari. Naomi watched as Anthony and the woman with the orange sari held each others gaze, exchanging knowing looks.
Her heart raged in her chest and she snatched her hand from Anthony's grip.
Mr Rohan nodded softly he looked at Naomi "It is ok. Ms Johnson I understand."
"Th-thank you Sir" Naomi answered trying to conjure up a smile. Naomi looked back up at Anthony but his eyes were still on the woman with the orange sari her head was down looking at her food. Anthony stared at her with an emotion Naomi could not comprehend. Her heart seemed to stop beating for a second as her leg tapped violently.
She scolded herself for feeling the way she did. The woman with the orange sari was beautiful. Even though her face was hidden behind that fabric her eyes testified of her beauty. If she were compared to that woman she knew she would come up short. Naomi decided to bring her attention back on her food. even though Mr Rohan understood her predicament she still felt uncomfortable eating here in the presence of everyone. "M-may I be excused"
Anthony's head snapped towards her "Where do you want to go" his voice was rough and volatile. She was surprised at his sudden change in tone.
"Anthony. Anthony. She won't run away from you. The lady probably wants to use the restroom. Unless..." Nur stirred his soup nonchalantly before gazing up at Anthony "...you've given her a reason to run"
Anthony's gaze remained cool as he peered at Nur. He cocked his head to the side maintaining the intense gaze "Was I talking to you?" Anthony turned his attention back on Naomi he held her forearm "Where are you going?" His eyes stared into hers and she fidgeted with her hands
"To the restroom"
"Ok" he looked into her eyes as if searching for a reason to doubt her eventually he let go of her
~~~~~
She inhaled deeply, finally being able to breath. The atmosphere that wafted though the table with Mr Rohan and his family was intoxicated with so much unkept secrets and grudges, that even her, a naive girl could see. Naomi thanked the woman that had escorted her to the restroom and entered.
The walls seemed to be made of gold as they sparkled in their cleanliness. The scent that floated through the air amazed her, how could a place that was designed for the task of excretion smell like lavender. The frames of the mirrors were embellished with silver shiny things that she could not name. The toilet was more appealing to the eyes than her room back home at Helslip.
Helslip
She sighed. The name ringed in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to forget. She looked at herself in the mirror, her face caked with layers of foundation that Agatha had thrown on her skin. Naomi did not recognise the girl that she saw in the mirror. Her hair seemed darker than usual. She raised her fingers to touch the skin on her face and her fingers seemed to tremble away. Afraid that her touch would remove the layers that seemed to hide what she feared the most.
She brought her lips in between her teeth. Her teeth sinked into the flesh of her lips.
Why am I like this?
The harder she bit.
Why can't I be perfect?
The deeper it sunk.
Why can't I just be like everybody else?
The pain kicked in as a drop of blood fell from her lips and dropped into the sink.
She stopped.
Took a breath in.
She allowed her fingers trail over the silver string that dangled across her neck. She refused to wonder how much this one ornament could cost. She doubted her parents would hesitate to sell her in exchange for this one necklace. This one object.
Her fingers trailed over to the red earrings that danced in her earlobes and she fought the urge to pull them out.
She took a step back and gazed at the dress that hug her figure so elegantly. Where was the rags she was accustomed to? The rags that dangled in the Helslip soil as she walked through its empty roads. Where were the patches and stains that had grown over the years.
She didn't see them.
She pulled her arm out and allowed her fingers dance along the dress that covered her forearm. Where were the scars that had embedded themselves in her skin due to all the beatings she had endured from her parents. Where were the lines of crimson that dripped from her flesh to the ground and dried up on her skin like paint on a canvas.
She looked into the mirror again. There were no tears in her eyes. Her eyes were not swollen. Where were the tears?
When she stared into that mirror all she saw staring back was a beautiful young lady that was happy and content with what she had and had no worries for her future.
She cocked her head. And looked deeply into the mirror.
Who was this person? Was the mirror playing tricks on her. Was this truly her?
Maybe somehow if she had deep concentration she would find something. Some scar. Some tear. Some trail of anger and resentment.
She blinked. There was nothing.
Maybe...
Maybe she wasn't looking hard enough?
All this glamour, the jewellery, the dress, the makeup.
They were too good a camouflage.
She felt a stranger to herself as her eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes still trained on the woman in that mirror. She couldn't recognise her at all. With all the glamour and mesmerizing things here she still missed her home.
At least back at Helslip people wouldn't hide their hatred but make sure you were aware of their feelings towards you. It seemed to be the opposite here. People speak in parables and give you weird looks but still claim to be your friend.
Naomi sighed feeling suffocated with her wild thoughts. She turned to leave before throwing a glance at her reflection.
She blinked. A smile creeping up on her face. Red. Naomi thought.
She noticed it only now. Agatha had dressed her up in red.
An elegant red dress. Gorgeous red heels. Outstanding red earrings. A lovely red necklace. Charming red ribbon
Red.216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFB8lsaBRme
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What drips from the flesh of a human when stabbed.
Red216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT5CvMbAhRs
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What people see when in deep anger
Red216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ6Xz3yw0T3
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What angers the bull.
Red. The colour of deep intensity and meaning. The colour of blood, struggle, anger, passion and lust.
Naomi knew that Agatha had seen the scars that scattered her body. The scars that had been hidden under fabric.
When Naomi had been scrubbed by Agatha's rough and loving hands, Naomi had kept her eyes closed for the fear of the old women's reaction at the sight of her gruesome scars.
But Agatha had said nothing. And Naomi was grateful.
But now as Naomi gazed at the mirror and the woman in it her love for Agatha grew
Red. The colour of a warrior.
~~~
Anthony silently watched the woman in the orange sari. He refused to believe that she were Nurs wife. There was something about her that he couldn't place a finger on. He watched her as she dropped her spoon into the soup. Anthony knew that she knew he was watching her. He refused to be fooled by her pretence innocence. His fingers itched to snatch away that fabric from her face. What was she hiding?
"May I be excused?" The lady asked. Anthony eyes squinted at the familiarity of that, soft angelic voice
"Yes my dear. Of course" Nur passed her a charming smile as she stood up.
"No!" Anthony almost sprang out of his seat. The word speeding out of his mouth faster that he would have preferred. Everyone stared back at him shocked at his sudden outburst. "I... I mean" he cleared his throat, "I mean you can wait for Naomi to come back. No need to to go while she too is there"
"Anthony do you try your best to sound dumb or is it just natural. She can go to the restroom anytime she wishes."
Anthony's nose flared as he laid eyes on Nur "Nur why do you always have to add your irrelevant comments when they're not needed. I wasn't speaking to you. When the wise speak, idiots like you should shut up and listen."
"Anthony. Nur is right let her use the restroom. There is nothing wrong with her going the same time as Naomi"
Anthony looked at Mr Rohan and scowled mentally "Yes sir" he mumbled. Anthony caught the sinister gaze that Nur and the woman exchanged. A silent message that he could not decipher. He looked back at Nur and didn't miss the mischievous smirk that grazed his face. Anthony knew they were planning something but he couldn't just understand what. There was something about that woman that put him on edge, he didn't trust her and he didn't want her anywhere near Naomi.
He didn't miss the cool gaze the woman threw at him as she stood up. Those eyes, he swore he had seen them somewhere. He watched quietly as the woman disappeared through the crowds of people. Her orange sari trailing behind her.
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Anthony huffed. Nothing he could do now.
ns216.73.216.6da2
