Page 20 of Scarred Sins
Slowly, I turn my head to the small table in the living room, an envelope catching my attention. With narrowed eyes, I approach it, noticing it’s addressed to Wren. I shouldn’t snoop around, but my curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it.
My heart skips a beat.
An invitation for the banquet.
Without a second thought, I grab the invitation and head to my bedroom. I hide the letter and the gun beneath the pile of clothes in my wardrobe, then inspect the invitation thoroughly.
I’m sorry, Wren, but I’ll be the one going instead.
SIX
The moment my ticket is inspected, I’m allowed inside.
It takes a lot of inner battling not to cower away from this inevitable situation and run back to the apartment. Being in a crowded space with so many people makes my skin crawl. My palms are sweaty, and I try my best not to ruin the expensive dress on me.
Turns out, it was a good idea to bring all of Arlo’s gifts from Long Grove.
Wren was annoyed that she lost the invitation but didn’t question me too much. Instead, she helped me dye my roots that have grown out a lot, gave my hair a nice trim, and helped pick a dress from the couple I have stashed away.
The dress is floor-length, dragging a little behind me. It has long sleeves, with small diamonds neatly on the hem of the sleeves and around the neckline. It’s tight, with the bottom part being a bit flowy and wider than the rest of the dress. The only reason I’m wearing this one is that I couldn’t be bothered with heels. If anyone recognizes me, I’ll need to make a run for it, and having heels on would become a problem.
Wren styled my hair into some loose waves and pulled it into a high ponytail, leaving a few face-framing strands to fall over my cheeks. The makeup is light and not uncomfortable. What makes me really uncomfortable is this event as a whole.
But this is where I need to be.
For my sanity.
Now that Arlo has revealed himself through the letter, I know that he’ll be here. I know that I’ll meet him before the night comes to an end, and my anxiety starts spiking up again. My eyes roam all across the expensive, lavish venue while I hide in a darker corner with a glass of juice.
People are talking, laughing, and mingling together, and it’s very evident I don’t belong here. Everyone is in groups, and a few people did look at me suspiciously while walking past me, though no one has addressed me so far.
I take a deep breath, then make my way to the bar to get a refill of my juice. Alcohol isn’t my thing. I tried whiskey and wine, and the ones that I did try didn’t make me feel good. Hence, I don’t drink at all. I prefer to keep my mind clear at all times.
While waiting for the refill, my thoughts drift back to the name Arlo, repeating in my head.
Even if he were to appear and stand next to me, I have no way of knowing it’s him. I have absolutely nothing to go on, except trying to trust my gut instinct. No eye color, no hair color, height, or anything that could even remotely tell me who he is.
The man whose face is the source of all the monsters that roam freely inside my head is nowhere to be seen yet. I’ll never be able to forget the terrifying brown eyes, the monstrous look in his eyes while he took what he wanted from me.
I take a quick glance at the wristwatch on my hand. Another gift from Arlo. It was Wren’s idea to wear it because it fits well with the dress. She doesn’t know it was gifted to me by my stalker; otherwise, she might not be too keen on me wearing it.
For one, it’s the only pretty watch I own that is good enough for an event like this. And secondly, if I catch someone staring at the watch for a little too long, it could very well be Arlo. He knows I never wear or use things he’s sent me, and wearing it might provoke a reaction.
It’s been an hour and a half since I’ve arrived, and I’m getting impatient.
It’s getting difficult to breathe. The ventilation is good, but it’s suffocating being in the same room as all of these people. Ifheis here and friendly with these men, I can only assume they’re alike.
I sip on the drink and pause abruptly when I hear the sound of the piano.
It fills my ears and almost causes me to drop the glass. I put it on the bar, slowly turning around. My throat tightens a little, noticing the small podium across the room. The lighting in the room dims, with a reflector shining above the pianist.
It’s one of the pieces that Arlo has sent me.
A wave of chills spreads down my body, my mouth feeling too dry all of a sudden. The tune sends short, sharp shocks of violence, yet it’s the most serene and harmonious sound I’ve ever heard. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d get to listen in person to Arlo playing.
The melody is for me.
It captivates me entirely. Goosebumps prickle my skin, and I’m unable to tear my eyes off his back, the way his fingers glide over the keys skillfully, the way he’s putting all of himself into the performance.
