*Goddess

"Wow, where are you going?" Aurora stands in a mini red leather dress with its deep v-neckline and ruffled details. Skin-tight, the dress looks stunning on her.

Her sense of style never ceases to amaze me, but what I admire is her capacity to wear these audacious pieces.

Aurora wiggles her eyebrow at me, "It's not where I'm going, but where we're going."

"Oh, Aurora, no, I'm exhausted. I just want to curl up and watch Goblin."

Depressed-mode on, I'm lost since my last outing with Søren, and right now, I want to escape my reality.

"I'm going to kill you, Inna; this is an obsession. How many times have you watched that series?"

"Thirty times."

"And the Master's Sun?

"Thirty-five."

"And The Moon That Embraces The Sun?"

"I don't keep a count of that one," I shrug.

Yes, yes, I admit it, I'm guilty of being a die-hard K-drama fan, but they are just soOooOo good.

"Inna, your not a teen anymore to be fantasizing over Goblin's, Grim reapers, Vampires, and other mystical creatures." Aurora places her hands on her hips, "get dressed, NOW. I won't have you hugging your pillow repeating the text of a drama you memorized. Let's get us some real men who can procure us palpable pleasures."

"Auu-rooo-ra,"

"Get dressed," she pulls me from the couch with the strength of a Titan. Her gym subscription and weight lifting sessions are paying off as they should.

Aurora has been a great friend since the boyfriend gate. She has tried her best to make amends, and though I haven't forgotten, I'm on the road to forgiving. I mean, it's not like she purposely seduced him, right?

"Here, wear this," she throws a white pair of shriveled-up tights at me, and as I unravel, I discover a lace dress.

"I can't wear this."

"Oh yes, you can, and trust me, you will wear it," her killer stare is enough to make me slip into her gown. I've seen Aurora slay this dress once. It's doesn't cling to her half as much as it does to me. My butt barely has enough room to release an airy fart between its crease. The dress is see-through everywhere except on my bosom. I must change my Pikachu undies for something neutral if I don't wish to become someone's meme gif.

"Perfect," Aurora says and approaches with her makeup brushes, "wow, you're gorgeous with some baking."

The reflection in the mirror is mine, but it's one I'm less comfortable with carrying. I'm not a glow-up fiend, "perhaps I should lay my hair."

"No, leave it. It gives you a savage je-ne-sais-quoi."

What Aurora calls savage is ruffled and shapeless, straight edge hedgehog spiked hair that has grown since I shaved it off. I'm that no man's land station hair-wise.

"Let's partaay," Aurora says with her usual enthusiasm.

Question: How is one supposed to dance when one can barely take a step?

The slit at the back of the dress scarcely allows me to do a slight scissor step.

"Aurora, I can't do this. The dress is way too tight."

She tilts her head to the side, "chose your poison. It's either that or my baby pink latex dress."

My hands automatically make a cross sign in front of me, "eh, I'm good, is fabric is actually quite flexible."

Aurora watches me as I attempt to move and sway my hips.

"Good."

"Phew," I escaped the inferno of the baby oil slip-on trial of that latex dress.

A few minutes later, we leave.

I've never left crimson or traveled, and here I am at the outskirts of my city. The atmosphere here is different so are the people who seem in their world, if not to say, in a trance.

Since the concert, I can't help noticing some people's eyes gleaming in the shiny glint of a feline at night. Nightlife isn't for me, not because my parents were strict, but it makes me uncomfortable, and recently the sensation of fear has heightened.

And I also have this weird impression I'm missing something without forgetting Søren, who keeps popping into my mind.

He's unusual, and my life has taken a weird twist since I entered his parlor. It somehow appears and feels a little less monotonous.

Søren pissed me off the other day. It's as though he's blowing hot and cold.

I'm probably in his friend zone. We do very-friends activities. We're friends, yet I'm so wound up about it.

Geez, I shouldn't be thinking of him like this, at least not before I tell Aurora. She truly has a compulsive fixation on him. The issue here is I don't know how to break it to her. Perhaps, I shouldn't; it's not like I have a real crush on him? I mean, seeing Soren on a regular basis helps the sweet fantasy trip.

He's handsome, and there's something incredibly magnetic about him. His charms work on everyone.

Nowadays, I find myself wishing for him to touch me. His reaction at the skate park brought me back to my high school years and painful memories. A lot of kids avoided me back then.

Some even preferred to bump into a brick wall to avoid touching or colliding with me.

Ignored.

Sometimes I wished they bullied me, as atrocious as it may seem. At least I would have understood, but there, students pretended I didn't exist.

My brother's presence relieved me. Knox's protective aura allowed me to survive. I had a lot of therapy sessions as I became an insomniac, and when slumber knocked, I ended up sleepwalking.

It wasn't rare to find me barefooted in my parent's garden digging holes with my father's shovel in my pajamas.

The kid's reaction at school got worse when they discovered I sleepwalked to McDonald's drive-in and ordered a Happy meal in my nightdress.

Things got so bad; I wanted to die. That's when the cuts began.

Blood.

Seeing mine drip reminds me I'm human, even though I don't dream. All I see when I close my eyes is oblivion. My mind has never registered the slightest reveries.

From then on, the therapy became hypnosis sessions with the very estranged Dr.Magoo.

The rest of my teen years is a little fuzzy. All I remember is some of the kids who ignored me disappeared, and others moved away.

My life became better from then, and Knox left to study in Romania.

We arrive in front of the Colosseum. The place is known to only let in members. What's weird is no one knows how to become one. There's no membership card or indication on their website. Once a month, they allow a few privileged people to join in on the festivities called Initiatio. During that particular night, one can become a member. Aurora loves this type of challenge, and here she embarks me on her explorer adventure like Laura Croft.

I'm surprised to note that everyone is well dressed. The dress code is strict. I expected ravers in ripped jeans and Chuck Taylors. No, bouncers seem to be looking for something, in particular, every time their eyes scan someone in the queue.

"Gosh, this is so exciting," Aurora says, and she squeezes my arm while we advance. I've never met someone who smiles in the face of the unknown and danger like her.

Wait a minute, are we in danger?

No, we're just two women wanting to dance the night away like most women of our age group around the globe.

Yet why do I feel like a deja vu? Something tells me I should have stayed at home.

It's our turn to get the physio's approval.

A man whispers to another who is about to hand Aurora two masks, "welcome, milady. Can you please place all your jewelry here?"

Aurora's face scrunches as she prepares her bitch mode, "why? What's wrong with having jewelry? It's part of our apparel."

"Sorry, these are the rules. No jewelry is allowed."

Aurora proceeds to take off her earrings and bracelets.

"You too, miss."

"I don'tㅡ," I suddenly remember my pendant. I'm about to take it off when Søren's voice rings police siren style in my head, "never take it off."

He isn't here, and his behavior still pisses me; I snatch off my pendant without giving it a second thought.

Aurora smiles, "thank you, sir." She grabs the masks and drags me along by the arm.

We follow a long dark corridor and stop in front of a thick velvet curtain—electro-music pounds behind while screams and chuckles echo.

"Please put on your masks," one of the men behind the curtain in a black tux says.

We proceed to put on the bandit masks, the men pull back the curtain, and we enter.

The Colosseum is in a warehouse with ancient Rome decor. 

Long red velvet curtains drape from the ceiling, and black corinthians style columns circle the dance floor. It seems every entrepreneur in Crimson likes their business to look theatrical.

"Inna, let's dance," Aurora leads the way to the center of the dance floor and immediately begins to move to the beat.

"Come on, Inna. Free your inner Goddess," she says with a mocking grin.

I don't know about my inner Goddess, but Aurora and I definitely release something as people stop dancing to watch us.

That's when I see him standing amidst the crowd in his full black suit, he wears no mask, and he fixes me. Suddenly he's in front of me, and again I have no time to assess how quickly he made it to me as he whispers, "I guess the rumors are true. He has chosen you."