The smell of rain and the ozone naturally brought Marissa peace but tonight it smelt like a sad song.
Thunder rattled the windowpanes of the luxury penthouse, the hallway feeling lonely and endless. Marissa didn't know why she felt so strange tonight after all she was marrying the love of her life tomorrow.
As she pushed open the door to her future matrimonial room, a jagged flash of lightning illuminated it, just enough to allow her see what was going on inside. She was holding a tray for a small celebration for the night before her wedding.
The tray hit the floor with a deafening clatter.
On the silk sheets she carefully selected herself, two bodies were entwined. Another flash of lightning revealed their faces. Marcus, her fiancé, and Sarah, the woman she called her best friend.
The air left Marissa's lungs as if she'd been punched. She clutched the door knob to keep herself from falling and tried to speak, to scream, but her throat was a desert.
Marcus didn't scramble for the covers. He didn't look ashamed. He simply leaned back, his eyes cold and mocking. Sarah trailed a finger down his chest, eyes locked on Marissa's, a clear provocation.
"You're early, Marissa", Sarah chirped, her voice like honeyed poison. "But I suppose it's better this way. We were getting tired of playing house with a talentless puppet."
"Marcus, Sarah…" Marissa finally choked out, her voice an ugly ghost of itself. She clutched her chest and fell to her knees unable to bear the depth of despair she was feeling.
"Why?" she cried out desperately, looking down at her bruised and calloused hands. "I handed over my booming family business to you Marcus. I practiced until my fingers bled so Sarah could win that international harp competition. I gave you both everything."
Marcus laughed. It was a sharp, ugly sound.
"And that was your mistake. Did you really think I was going to marry you? I am the CEO of Thorne Industries and Sarah is the face of music. You? You're just a girl who has outlived her usefulness. Take a good look at your pathetic scarred self, you couldn't even keep your parents."
Marissa froze. "What did you say?"
"Did you really think she died of a heart attack?" Sarah leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "It's amazing what a little tasteless powder in a daily tea can do over six months. She was in the way. Just like you are now."
Before Marissa could bolt for the door, Marcus was on her. He was stronger, fueled by years of hidden resentment. He pinned her to the floor, his knee crushing her chest. Sarah approached with a small, amber vial.
"Don't worry," Sarah whispered, pinning Marissa's jaw open. "It's the same stuff we gave your parents. Just think of it as a family reunion."
They forced the liquid down. It burned like liquid fire, melting her insides. As Marissa's vision began to fade into a terrifying gray, she saw them turn back to each other, resuming their intimacy as if she were already a corpse.
If there is a God... Marissa's soul screamed into the void. Let me come back. Let me be the monster they think I am.
"Marissa? Darling, you'll be late!"
The voice felt like a bucket of ice water. Marissa bolted upright, a strangled gasp escaping her lips.
She wasn't on a cold hard floor. She was in a bed, soft, smelling of strawberries and expensive starch. Was she only dreaming? It couldn't be, it felt so real. She frantically checked her hands. No scars. No tremors. Her skin was smooth, glowing with the youth of a twenty year old.
She scrambled out of bed and ran to the door, throwing it open. Her mother stood there, holding a white silk gown, looking vibrant and very much alive.
Marissa didn't speak. She lunged forward, burying her face in her mother's neck, shaking with a force that terrified the older woman.
"Oh! Marissa, what's going on, is it nerves because of the Spring Gala?" Her mother softly asked as she smoothed her hair. Marissa didn't say anything, just stayed in her mother's embrace. Her mother, patient and kind, didn't ask anymore questions and let her be.
Marissa finally pulled back, her eyes red but her mind suddenly, terrifyingly clear.
The Spring Gala.
Five years ago. The night Marcus has confessed his feelings for her. He was one of the guests during the gala. They had met when she stepped out for some fresh air. Sarah had also "debuted" with the musical piece she kept hidden in her room.
"I'm fine, mom" Marissa said, her voice dropping an octave. She wiped her tears, her face settling into a mask of icy calm. "Actually, I've never been better. Please tell the stylist I'll be down in ten minutes."
She slowly walked back into her room, her fingers slowly caressing the strings on her harp just beside her bed. Her fingers moved and found the click just under the table revealing a hidden drawer. Looking at the musical piece she had been working on, she smiled mischievously and switched it out, humming the sweet melody of the piece.
She turned to the vanity mirror. The girl staring back was beautiful, innocent, and fragile. In her past life, she had worn white to this gala, a symbol of her purity and her willingness to be led.
"The innocent Marissa died on that penthouse floor," she whispered, her reflection's eyes cold and piercing.
She walked over to her closet, bypassing the white dress her mother prepared. Instead, she pulled out a dress she had hidden away, a backless, midnight black dress embellished with little diamonds that hugged her curves like a second skin.
Tonight, Marcus wouldn't meet a naive heiress to manipulate. He would meet his executioner.
And as for Sarah… she was about to find out what happens when you steal a song from a woman who has nothing left to lose.