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.
skipping a beat. “The true winner
just a lovable personality…” he sneers subtly, casting a
“He will
is clear, and the gleam in
as
his eyes meeting mine. “Abby, you’ve become a favorite for
us, what has
to the audience, to the sea of faces that seem to blur
fewer signs with my name now thanks
hole in
there she is—the little girl in the third row with her
and bright as
sign in her tiny hand, a
the lump in my throat, but I
here, even if I don’t
I’m here for her.
I start, my voice surprisingly steady,
female chef in
To show that we—” I pause, my
stand toe to
the air tasting thick. “And
others. That future
skills—and our voices—are not only
also respected.”
ripple through the crowd, a murmur of acknowledgment,
the sound of anticipation
results.
announcer’s voice then cuts through the
to the judges
of his
catches. Logan’s eyes lock
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even blink. Instead, his head gives the
to tilt
my champion, now looks on with a cool detachment.
the briefest of moments before she
me in a nod so
trick of the
can’t look at Daniel,
Instead, I find the little girl in the crowd,
draw strength from her innocence, her belief in
winner is…” The pause hangs for what
as though drawing it out for dramatic effect.
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