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L.J. Shen
Trigger Warning
THIS BOOK MAY CONTAIN TRIGGERS.
It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness.
LEO TOLSTOY
To Brittany Danielle Christina and Jacquie Czech Martin, and to strong women everywhere.
May we be them, may we raise them, may we support them.
Soundtrack
“Young and Beautiful” – Lana Del Rey
“Take Me to Church” – Hozier
“Young God” – Halsey
“Can’t Truss it” – Public Enemy
“Back to Black” – Amy Winehouse
“Nothing Compares 2 U” – Sinead O’Connor
“Everybody Wants to Rule the World” – Tears for Fears
“I’m Shipping Up to Boston” – Dropkick Murphys
Prologue
FRANCESCA
What sucked the most was that I, Francesca Rossi, had my entire future locked inside an unremarkable old wooden box.
Since the day I’d been made aware of it—at six years old—I knew that whatever waited for me inside was going to either kill or save me. So it was no wonder that yesterday at dawn, when the sun kissed the sky, I decided to rush fate and open it.
I wasn’t supposed to know where my mother kept the key.
I wasn’t supposed to know where my father kept the box.
But the thing about sitting at home all day and grooming yourself to death so you could meet your parents’ next-to-impossible standards?
You have time—in spades.
“Hold still, Francesca, or I’ll prick you with the needle,” Veronica whined underneath me.
My eyes ran across the yellow note for the hundredth time as my mother’s stylist helped me get into my dress as if I was an invalid. I inked the words to memory, locking them in a drawer in my brain no one else had access to.
Excitement blasted through my veins like a jazzy tune, my eyes zinging with determination in the mirror in front of me. I folded the piece of paper with shaky fingers and shoved it into the cleavage under my unlaced corset.
I started pacing in the room again, too animated to stand still, making Mama’s hairdresser and stylist bark at me as they chased me around the dressing room comically.
I am Groucho Marx in Duck Soup. Catch me if you can.
Veronica tugged at the end of my corset, pulling me back to the mirror as if I were on a leash.
