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“Ma’am, I am the manager.” Laura smirks. “You’re more than welcome to try another shop if you don’t want our assistance.”
“I’ll be fine.” I don’t know where my braveness came from all of a sudden, but my gut is telling me to stand my ground. “I have a feeling the dress that’s meant for me is in this shop.”
“If that’s what you want dear.” Mrs. Coventry narrows her eyes before turning on her heel and heading to the cushioned chairs set up around the viewing platform.
“My assistant will be over in a moment with some refreshments.” Laura leads me to the dressing room mumbling about rude mothers of the bride.
I chuckle as she closes the door behind us because I couldn’t agree more. Now that we’re alone in the dressing room, I start to panic. My hands are clammy, and sweat trickles down my back.
What will she do when she sees the bruises? How do I explain them? Think Violet, think!
“Are you okay?”
That one question does me in. My breath hitches, and my eyes unleash the tears that I’ve been holding in the past few months. Once I start, I can’t stop, and it’s like a dam burst open. Laura hands me some tissues and rushes to reassure me.
“Ohmigosh! It will be okay. A lot of brides get nervous when they haven’t found the right dress.” Laura pats my back soothingly.
I jerk away from her touch with a hiss. I didn’t mean to, but the pain has gotten to be too much with all the movement from today, trying on dress after dress.
“May I?” she asks, gently pointing to my shirt.
I should say no, but I nod involuntarily. She slowly lifts up my shirt and gasps.
“Mother fucker,” she growls. “I’m so sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I mumble. “I guess we better try on the first dress.”
“Did someone hurt you?”
“I-I-I…”
“These bruises are bad, Violet. If you’re in danger, I can help.”
“How can you help me?” I whisper. “No one can.”
“That’s not true. If you truly want help, just say the word, and I will get you out of here,” Laura says with determination.
Desperation forces me to believe her. That, and there’s something in her voice that has me thinking about the chance she’s giving me. This could be the answer to my prayers.
“I need help. It’s my fiancé,” I explain. “He, um… He’s violent sometimes. I don’t know how to get away.”
Laura looks around and sees my purse which I dropped on the chair. She picks it up and hands it to me.
“Go out and take a right,” she says, pointing to a door. “You’ll go through a long hallway and at the end of it is the back door. The code to get out is three-three-seven-four. That will disarm the alarm. Once you’re out the door you’ll be in an alley. Head to the end of the alley and turn left, and on the corner, you’ll see another store called Naughty/Nice. Go in there and ask for Cece. Tell her what you told me.” She takes a breath before continuing. “I’ll tell your jailers that you had to use the bathroom and it will be just a few minutes. That should buy you enough time to get there.”
“Why would she help me?” My skin tingles in anticipation. I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
“Trust me, Cece and herfriendsare your best hope.” Laura squeezes my hand. “Go, I’ll stall.”
I slip out the door and follow her instructions to get out of the building. Once I’m outside, the severity of what I’m doing hits me. It’s an emotional punch to the gut as I lean against the wall and argue with myself for being selfish. My parents could possibly suffer because of my actions.
Maybe Cece and her friends can help them too.
Making up my mind, I head toward what I hope is my salvation.
CHAPTER8
GRIM
