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.

a beat.

personality…” he sneers

at me. “He will be a skilled

is clear, and the gleam in his eye is sharp,

as the

eyes meeting mine. “Abby,

us, what has this experience

lifts to the audience, to the sea of

are fewer signs with my name now thanks to my

hole

little girl in the third row with

eyes. Her eyes are just as wide and bright as ever, and she still holds up

in her tiny hand, a

can feel the lump in my throat, but I push through… because I’m reminded

here, even

I’m here for her.

start, my voice

chef

have been here. To show that we—” I pause, my heart in

“—that I can stand toe to toe

breath, the air tasting thick. “And maybe, just maybe,” I

That

skills—and our voices—are not only

also respected.”

through the crowd,

just the sound of anticipation as everyone waits for

results.

announcer’s voice then cuts through the

eyes flick to the judges as he

out of

catches. Logan’s eyes lock onto mine, his

blink. Instead, his head gives

tilt for

champion, now looks on with a cool

briefest of moments before she

inclining toward me in a nod so

a trick of the

I can’t look at Daniel, can’t afford to see the smirk

little girl in the crowd,

her innocence, her belief in

winner is…” The pause hangs for what feels

as though drawing it out for dramatic effect.

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