Abby
The stage lights feel even more blinding now from the tears in my eyes. A
makeup artist darts around, dabbing my face with powder to cover the streaks
from crying. In more ways than one, I’m glad this hell is almost over; right now,
I’m just looking forward to getting this damn makeup off.
Finally, the director counts down from three, and it feels as though we’ve done
this a million times before. The crowd cheers, the music plays, the announcer
struts across the stage. And me? I’m standing here like a statue, my smile just
as fake as my manicured eyelashes.
Enter title…
Daniel stands next to me, shoulder to shoulder, and I can feel the hatred
emanating off of him. He stands tall and proud, the perfect picture of arrogance.
He doesn’t say a word to me, because he doesn’t need to. He already said
everything he needed to say earlier. He got his digs in, made his sharp words
stab me to my core. There’s no point now.
I can sense the satisfaction coursing through his veins as he stands beside me,
the realization that he won—not just in the competition, but in life—washing over
both of us. In just a few minutes, he’ll get exactly what he wants. Not only a
trophy, but to beat a woman down to nothing.
The announcer turns to Daniel first, his voice echoing across the studio. “Daniel,
you’ve shown immense skill throughout this competition. As we come to a close,
how are you feeling about your performance?”
Daniel’s lips twist into a smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching his
eyes.
he says without skipping a beat. “The
just a lovable personality…” he sneers subtly,
me. “He will be a skilled
the gleam in his eye is sharp,
creeps up into my cheeks as the
to me, his eyes meeting mine. “Abby, you’ve become a favorite
competition. Tell us, what has
to the audience, to the sea of faces that
signs with my name now thanks to
leaves a hole in my
there she is—the little girl in the third row
Her eyes are just as wide and bright as ever, and she still holds up
sign in her tiny hand,
lump in my throat, but I push
I’m here, even if I don’t
I’m here for her.
I start, my voice
As a female chef in
to have been here. To show that
can stand toe to toe with
thick. “And maybe,
here will inspire others. That
our skills—and our voices—are not only recognized,
also respected.”
a ripple through the crowd, a murmur
sound of anticipation as
results.
announcer’s voice then cuts through the
is…” His eyes flick to the judges
out of
Logan’s eyes lock onto
doesn’t smile, doesn’t even blink. Instead, his head gives
world seems to tilt for what feels like the millionth time
my champion, now looks on
for the briefest of
toward me in a
trick of the
can’t look at Daniel, can’t afford
little girl in the
I draw strength from her
hangs for what feels like an eternity
speaks, as though drawing it out for dramatic effect.
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