Forced
SmudgesWhen you came back from your morning shower, you were surprised to find someone else in your room and intimidated by your mere presence, she immediately bowed but before you could ask her anything, you felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned to face your mother whom you knew had answers to all your questions.
“Who is this?”
“A professional makeup artist whose services I’ve engaged for the day. You need to look pretty today and the dress is on your bed. No questions are to be asked.”
With a click in her heels, she walked down the hallway, leaving you to deal with yourself.
You could read between the lines; your mother basically needed you to look like a pretty loving wife today, instead of an iron lady.
Walking towards your bed, you found a silky white satin dress with only one long sleeve on the left with the other shoulder left bare. They ended right above your knees. There were pearls earrings to suit your look and your look was completed with a matching set of heels and clutch, both in the same shade of shimmering glitter. Putting the dress on, you felt a little of your old image being stripped away. Sitting down in front of your mirror properly and having your face caked with layers of cosmetics; the colours used being ones that you are not used too, made you uncomfortable. The heavy layers of makeup made you feel as if your skin couldn’t breathe and you wanted you rub the layers off your face with your bare hands, but you kept them firmly at your side instead. You felt like a porcleian doll, a pretty looking thing but yet had no substance inside. You stared back at the unknown person reflected in the mirror, wondering where on earth the old you disappeared to. Stripped, thrown into a abyss or burnt, who knows. You wondered if the old you could ever come back, or if she was meant to die today with the finalisation of your marriage. Thanking the make up artist with a slight bow of your head, you picked up your purse and walked out of your room. You didn't have time for such thoughts; you had a job to do. Down in your living room, you were met with the director of your reality program, whom taught you how to act the part of a loving wife in 5 minutes flat.
“Smile”
“Do things for him when you can.”
“Hook your arms when you leave the car later.”
“Give him a peck on cheeks when you see him later.”
“Stare at him from time to time when you get to.”
You listened but showed no sign of response. When you were pushed out of your front door, you caught a little glimpse of Johnny before huge cameras were shoved into your face. You faked a smile as you walked towards the car and when you finally stood in front of h
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