Page 53 of Eat Me

He releases a hum, “You won’t have to do the killing again if you don’t want to. Our mother doesn’t like killing either.” I blink at the words, so there’s some small miracles then.

“But I’ll still have to go by your diet…” It isn’t a question; it’s a statement. I know it isn’t going to be up for debate with how the conversations from before went.

“No. That’s something you’ll have to get used to. We won’t expect you to have it for every meal yet. We will slowly integrate them into your meals…but you did so well when you ate it during the test.” Marcus grins, as he stands up. Watching his movements as he walks to the closet and opens it.

The dress Marcus pulls from the closet is undeniably beautiful - a soft, flowing gown in a pale blue that reminds me of a summer sky. It looks expensive, with delicate lace detailing along the bodice and sleeves.

I stare at it, feeling a mix of emotions wash over me. Part of me admires its beauty, while another part recoils at the thought of wearing anything they’ve chosen for me.

"What's that for?" I ask warily, though I have a sinking feeling in my stomach I already know the answer.

Marcus smiles, laying the dress carefully across the foot of the bed. "For you to wear today, of course. We can't have our bride-to-be walking around in a nightgown."

I wrap my arms tighter around myself, acutely aware of how exposed I feel in the thin silk nightgown. "I'd rather have my own clothes back.”

“Unfortunately, your clothes were ruined by all the blood.” He tells me as I watch him move over to a different closet and open it showing different kinds of shoes. He picks up a white pair of strappy sandals that have a small wedge heel. At least he isn’t going to make me wear stilettos.

“When did you have time to find clothes that fit me…. or were these for other girls and you all just got lucky that they fit me?” I ask while glancing around the room.

Marcus laughs as he sets the shoes down on the ground by the bed. “We started buying things and designing this room before you even arrived. When our grandfather told us about you, we started to prepare… just in case you did pass all the tests.”

I’m not sure how to feel about that as I turn to look at the dress, a sigh leaving my lips, “That’s a bit creepy.”

“You have clothes to wear though.” He snorts at the look at give him. I’m not amused at all. I look at the clothing again and sigh. I can’t go around in a nightgown…who knows what they’d do if I did so. I shift uncomfortably but am aware I’m going to give in.

“Are you going to leave so I can get dressed?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. He gives me a smirk as he leans down, giving my cheek a kiss.

“When you’re done, come out of your room, I’ll be waiting to take you to eat some breakfast. My brothers are looking forward to seeing you.” He tells me as he’s leaving me there blinking until the door shuts with a firm click.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Victoria

Istare at the closed door for a long moment after Marcus leaves, my emotions are a tangled mess. Part of me is relieved to be alone, but another part feels oddly bereft without his comforting presence. I shake my head in an attempt to try to clear those confusing thoughts.

With a deep sigh, I turn my attention to the dress laying out on the bed. It really is beautiful, and it’s the kind of dress I might have chosen for myself in another life. But here, it feels like just another way for them to control me, to mold me into their ideal bride.

With a heavy sigh, I push myself up and stand in front of my bed to look at the dress more closely. The fabric of the dress is soft and light against my fingers. It’s undeniably lovely, but wearing it signifies that I’m accepting their claim on me. Still, I know I can't stay in the nightgown forever. Reluctantly, I slip it off and pull on the blue dress.

It fits perfectly, of course. The thought that they had planned this so meticulously, buying clothes for me before I'd even arrived, sends a chill down my spine. I step into the sandals, grateful at least that they aren't too high or uncomfortable.

"Stop it," I mutter to myself. "Don't let yourself be charmed by pretty things." Cause things were just things. They can’t bring back lives, couldn’t bring back who I was before I came here and took lives.

Glancing around I see the vanity in the corner that also has a floor length mirror next to it. I hesitate before approaching the mirror, almost afraid of what I might see. Taking a deep breath, I step in front of it and freeze at the sight of my reflection.

The woman staring back at me is both familiar and strange. The dress fits perfectly, hugging my curves before flowing gracefully to the floor. The pale blue color makes my skin look luminous and brings out the green in my eyes. My dark hair falls in soft waves around my shoulders, looking somehow healthier and shinier than I remember. I can see the bruises on my neck and the ‘love bites’ left as well. I avert my gaze away from the marks.

But it’s my eyes that really catch my attention. They look... different. Haunted. The innocence that had once been there was gone, replaced by a weariness that makes me look older than my years. Gently touching my reflection, tracing the dark circles under my eyes and I see the tension in my jaw.

“ I look the same but different at the same time...” I whisper to my reflection. This’s the face of a woman who has killed, who has been broken and remade. I have the same face, but I feel like a totally different person.

I glance at my reflection one last time before going to the door and stepping out. Marcus is leaning on the wall across from the door, arms crossed with a small smile on his face as he sees me.

“You look beautiful. I’m glad we chose that color.” He tells me, pushing off the wall and standing in front of me.

I stand here, feeling exposed and vulnerable under Marcus's appreciative gaze. Part of me wants to retreat into the room, to hide from his intense blue eyes that seem to see right through me. But I force myself to stand tall, refusing to show weakness.

"Thank you," I say stiffly, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. "Can we just get this over with?" The sooner I get through this, the sooner I can retreat to the relative safety of my room.

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