"No, no, no. Wear this, not that. That dress makes you look like a nun. Please, we're going to Fashion Week, not to church." My mother said, looking at my chosen attire. She handed me a white dress.

"There is nothing wrong with what I'm wearing, mother. It's practically the same as the that one! Except it's floor-length and it's black." I said, struggling to keep my calm.

"Fine," She said giving me another dress, it looked the same as the one I'm wearing. It was floor length sleeveless and v-necked, but it was red, and it had a slit running up to my upper thigh. "Wear this instead."

I gave out a sigh, then walking away, I went into my bedroom, changing into the red dress.

"Soon, Becca, soon, your going to be away from her. Just be patient." I murmured to myself, looking at my reflection in the mirror.

***

I sat there watching supermodels walk the runway in exotic dresses.

I'm not envious like other girls would be, I didn't want a job like that, sure it would be fine being a model once in a while. Still my mother wanted me to be just like her. A famous supermodel, beautiful, gorgeous.

But that wasn't my dream job. I wanted something else, something more.

I grabbed my purse, excusing myself to go to the bathroom. As soon as I got there I punched in a number.

"Bonjour. What can I do for you, my friend?" asked a friendly voice with a hint of a French accent.

"I need your help to run away."