ll In This Life- Delta Goodrem ll
Loooveeee this! Sounds sooo good! 
-
 Saturday, July 21, 2012: The society of Nantucket is hosting their annual charity gala, and guess who's invited? Us, the Carmichael family of course! Although, let's be serious, it's not like we really care about the charity- we just care about our pictures which will probably be splattered all over The Nantucket Times. Dress accordingly- gowns and cocktail dresses for the girls and suits for the boys. The finest champagne will be served, and a ton of paparazzi will be there, so smile, and be ready for your close up. 
-
 I tiptoed into my house, shutting the grand, large white front door behind me, locking it. It had to be about eight a.m. There was a party just down the street that had gone on late last night, a real rager, and after downing who-knows-how-many shots of tequila, I decided it was best to just stay the night over because getting behind the wheel was not even an option. If I totaled my car… God, I'd be in deep sh*t. 

 My head was pounding, as always. All the parties I went to really got to me, and even though it was usually something I got used to, it always killed me after going a little bit over my limit. I went directly to the kitchen, slipping off the skinny, strappy, Roberto Cavallis so that they wouldn't be too loud on the polished marble floors. The rest of the family would probably be up at about ten, nearly two hours from now, so slipping back into bed really just wasn't an option. 
I open the door to the Sub-Zero PRO fridge, grabbing an ice pack to hold on my pounding head, along with a miniature bottle of orange juice. I needed something inside of me besides alcohol. I turn the orange juice around though, looking through the nutrition facts, my eyes landing directly onto the calories section. Calories 190, it reads. I walk over to the sink, dumping about half of the orange juice into the sink and filling the rest with water, screwing the cap on it tightly and shaking it. 
It was something I usually did. I had an event tonight and I really didn't need the extra calories, so emptying most of the juice out left little to go inside of me, which was good. 

 I slunk up the large staircase carrying my shoes, ice packet, and orange juice all the way to my room. I set down the orange juice and walk over to my closet, putting the Cavallis in their respective spot amongst the shoes that line the large wall. I shut the door to my closet behind me, then sinking into my bed and beginning to drink my orange juice. I had two hours until my family would be up. For now I basically had the house all to myself. I could do anything. I knew right now though that I could really use a cigarette.

 I press the ice packet against my forehead, opening the drawer to my nightstand and grabbing out the packet of Newports out of my cigarette stash for times like this when I desperately needed it. I get off my bed, opening the little door to the balcony I had. It was small, and high up so sometimes sitting out here scared me a lot but I hated the smell of cigarettes that gets trapped in my room at time. It's like once that smoke even comes in contact with anything in your house you're doomed because it stays there and infects it like some kind of a virus. So, I pretty much /had/ to smoke out here, besides, it's the only place I can get some damn privacy in this house. 

 I light the cigarette up with one hand (I'd gotten pretty skilled at this) then smoking it, inhaling deeply before letting out a steam of thick, opaque smoke. If my parents knew I smoked they'd probably kill me, although I know for certain they definitely experimented with things other than cigarettes (as had I) back in the day before they had so many daughters, so really, they're the hypocrites. If they did it, then I could too, right? 
Right.

 After two hours filled with smoking, catching up on the missed episode of Pretty Little Liars along with just some random thinking, my parents and sisters were up. We had breakfast, 'together' as a family and then we went our separate ways, of course, not before my mother could call after us, reminding us of the charity gala that was tonight, the one we were required to attend so that we could promote a good family image or some bullsh*t like that. She tries to play that happy family card, although I knew that really, she's just seeing the dollar signs that come from endorsement deals that get offered to her and the family after we attend a huge outing. 
Basically, tonight is an opportunity for money to add to our already large fortune. Not that I mind, as long as my mother can sleep at night in her bouncy mattress alongside my father, that's all that matters.

 After a few more hours filled with my random doings, it was almost five, and the big gala was starting soon. Ugh. I didn't mind these things much usually. I enjoyed the red carpet, the paparazzi, but it was just the socializing that I hated. Being around rich, old people that smelled like Chanel no. 5 wasn't really my cup of tea. At. All. 
But I guess I could stand it for a few hours after a few glasses of champagne. Usually, that's when the fun started- after the champagne. 

 "Hey," A familiar voice popped up and I looked to my door, seeing Claire standing against the doorframe. Claire and I had a pretty good relationship. We liked each other, we got along, she respected me, I respected her, that's just how it was. To be honest, she was one of my favourite sisters. She was the only one I could pretty much stand or be around 24/7. 

"Hey," I say looking at her as she pads across my hardwood floors, sitting on the edge of my bed. "What's up?" I ask. 

"Nothing much," She says looking at me. "What are you wearing tonight?" 

I shrug, "I don't know," I say. "Mom sent me this ugly as* Marc Jacobs dress, but there's no chance in hell I'm wearing that," I roll my eyes. 

"She'll be mad if you don't wear it," She says. 

"I know," I say casually. And I do. But do I care? Not really? 

"Have any backups?" 

"Nope," I say shaking my head. 

"Winging it?" 

"You know it," I wink.

"Girls," My mother pokes her head into the doorway. "Can you come with me for a second? I'm going to check on Camille and well… I just need to make sure she's still alive," She winks playfully. 

 I resist the urge to roll my eyes, hopping off my bed alongside Claire and walking down the hallway and appearing in Camille's doorway. Her door was wide open. The dark haired beauty was sitting on the wooden chair in front of her vanity. 
"Well, at least we know you're still alive.." I snicker, looking at her. Claire giggled slightly, putting a hand over her mouth. 

"Are you alright dear?" My mother asks, walking into Camille's room cautiously. 

"Fine," Camille replies with a shrug, "Nothing to fuss over." 

"Oh," My mother turns to us, "Give us a moment, girls," 
I rolled my eyes, walking off towards my room. I should probably be getting dressed and ready or some sh*t like that. 

 Claire and I part ways and I walk into my room, closing the door behind me. I walk into my walk-in closet, glancing at my dress rack. It's filled with dresses I've worn in the past, as well as some in dress bags to keep clean and free of any fur or dirt or whatever. I thumb through the rack, my eyes landing on the sleek, black, Gucci bag. I unzip it, pulling out the chain embellished gold and black dress. 
Perfect. 

 It's perfect. It may not look like the type of dress you'd wear to a gala, but I know I could pull it off. I just /know./ And best of all is that it'll be a risk and all cameras will be on me. Perfection.
I zip the bag back up, giddy with excitement now. 

 I head into my bedroom, grabbing my silk robe off my hanger and slipping it on, tying it around my waist. I head into my private bathroom, ready to get all made up, ready for a long night.
After showering and blowdrying my hair, I run the CHI flat iron over my blonde locks, instantly straightening them and transforming them into a curtain of light colored silk.
I do my makeup into a bronze, gold, and black smokey eye to go along with my dress, along with tons of mascara, and soft, pinkish, nude lipstick over my big lips.
I was ready. The rest of my family was probably all ready, but I just needed to get dressed and I would be done. I slip into my closet, stripping off my clothes and carefully putting on the Gucci dress, doing a 360 spin and looking in my mirror. It wasn't very fitted, so it hung off my size 00 body, but in the perfect way. 
I stick a foot into a matching Gucci sandal, then grabbing a gold boxy clutch as my mother calls for me, "Cierra!" She yells over the intercom. "Are you almost ready?" 

 I press the button next to the speaker, "I'll be down in a sec!" I call back, trying to hide the annoyance in my voice. 
I pack the small clutch with my phone, lipstick, and other necessities before turning the lights off and walking down the staircase to see the rest of my family already waiting at the bottom go the staircase.

 My sisters were all ready, looking pretty in their finest cocktail dresses and teetering on their high heels. My mother looked good too, her blonde hair in a soft undo, my father in a tux, his arm linked with hers. 

"Finally," Camille scoffed. 
Needless to say her and I don't like each other too much. We clash quite often which gets tiring sometimes. But for the most part I just try my hardest to stay out of her way as she tries to stay out of my way. But that doesn't stop her from making snippy remarks sometimes of course. 

I glare at her, faking a small smile as I look at her, then looking to my mother, whose blue eyes were wandering up and down my tall, skinny body. I raise an eyebrow, clearing my throat, "Problem?" I ask.

"I thought you were going to wear the Marc Jacobs, honey," She says, clicking her tongue.

"I wanted to wear the Gucci… I thought it looked better," I state sharply.

"It looks nice… but it just doesn't fit your body right… too tight."

My jaw nearly hit the marble floor. Too tight? Please, this dress hung off my body like a potato sack, but of course, on me, it worked. And of course, my mother just had to say something. It takes all I have to not spit in her face and kick her in the shin with my skinny stiletto.

"I just think you need to start working out more, honey," She says, giving me a motherly looking smile to match her not-so-motherly advice. 

 The tight smile I had plastered to my face faltered for a second but then quickly replaced itself. I couldn't let myself show disappointment or how upset I really was. But I just didn't get it. I had fought my way to the top. I had worked my skinny little as*s off, just to be skinny, and pretty, and smart, and what I thought was good enough… but obviously, I just wasn't up to her standards. 
But why? Why wasn't I ever good enough? It made no sense. 

 "Gee mom, thanks," I say, "Maybe you should start working out too… maybe we can do mother-daughter Pilates together." I say it to her with a b*tchy tone, but I couldn't help myself. 
My sisters always wondered why I was such a b*tch, but honestly, the reasons were present in this household. It was themselves, also, but mostly, it was just my mother. 
I didn't want to be a b*tch to her, but she was such a b*tch to me, I just couldn't help myself. I had to be blunt and sarcastic and completely rude to protect myself. If I wasn't any of these things, I'd be weak. I'd let my guard down and I would show how upset I was. I would show my cards and that kills me. 
I'd rather be the girl that was strong, no tears, hard to break, than the one that was crying over a comment, as easy to snap as a toothpick. 

"Cute, Cierra," She tilts her head, sighing, "Let's go girls, the car is outside." 

More soon! Comment to be included! Already included @ocean-blue-xo and @istylista
Show all items in this set…

Similar Styles

Love this look? Get more styling ideas

Continue
×
About