June Horner's entire life came crashing down in one night.
After a vengeful ex-boyfriend spread rumours about her, destroying her reputation and making her undesirable by nearly every acting and modelling agency in existence, she was lost for months...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
d e l i c a t e
˜"*°•.˜"*°•.•°*"˜.•°*"˜
oh, goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand.
.҉ .҉ .҉
TW: This chapter contains mentions of sexual assault
I DON'T REMEMBER how I got back to Paris, but I understand that I'm here now. Everything is a little hazy, like an out of focus film, and I wander the streets of Paris with an almost distant sense of familiarity. I know vaguely where I am, I cross a bridge and drift in the direction of the street where I grew up. I turn a corner and find my favourite cafe, down an alleyway and I emerge outside my apartment building.
One of my windows are boarded up. It hasn't been repaired yet. There's probably glass shattered across the floor still.
A hand touches my shoulder, and a woman I know but can't recall the name of reminds me; "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
My legs start to move and I walk further and further from my apartment. I have somewhere to be.
I run my fingers along the bars of a metal fence and feel a sense of nostalgia. I can visualise a scrawny little French girl of seventeen years, her hair was lighter because it had just been the summer, her skin was glistening in the afternoon light. One particular day she wore a white sundress, it went down past her knobby knees and subsequently hid the bruises she'd earned from tripping in her youthful clumsiness.
She wore the dress in hopes that he'd like it, and he did. He said it made her look innocent, pure. Like an angel. I realise now I'm wearing a white sundress. I haven't worn anything like it since then. My shoulders feel bare and exposed, but my legs keep me walking.
He's standing outside the door of his house when I reach him.
"Come inside," he beckons. I do. My conscious mind tries to fight the automatic trudging forward of my body, but his hand wraps around my waist and he pulls me inside.
"I knew you'd come back," he says. Jack. I'm standing in the entryway of Jack's house. He towers over me, I don't remember him being that tall. "Come here, mon amour."
I stumble forward into his chest and he wraps his arms around me. He wraps them so tight I can't breathe. I start to hyperventilate in his arms and I beg him to let me go. He continues to constrict me, like a devilish snake, he traps me so I can't move.
