our long way home

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Today is the day of the ball and I'm not supposed to go but that hasn't stopped me before. Honestly, I had no desire to attend until I sat back and thought about it. That she also might be there, I mean she seems fancy enough. She definitely has money and that's basically my father's whole aesthetic.

So all day I've been trying to figure out how I can make this happen. I don't really have any dresses that are appropriate for this, considering I've never been to an event. Well, as a child maybe but I've obviously outgrown all of those. As time winds down, I'm running out of options but then I get an idea.

I dash up to the attic, careful not to be seen or heard. I light the lantern and squint my way through the outer darkness until I find it. I run my fingers over the old wood, adorned with webs of gold. Dust coats my finger and I brush it off on my house dress, blowing the rest away. This trunk contains almost all of my mother's clothes, or what's left of them anyway.

I managed to sneak a few away from my father whilst he cleaned out her wardrobe. I open it up, setting the lamp down beside me and getting as comfortable as I can on my knees. I lift one out, examining it in the dim light and tears spring to my eyes. A blurry picture forms in my mind of her greeting me in this dress.

Everything may be a bit hazy but her smile shines bright throughout all my memories of her. My only wish is that I can grow up to be as happy as she seemed to be. I can't imagine it being genuine with my father as a husband but I believe she loved him, in spite of his demeanor. I rummage through it a bit more until I find the one.

I smile to myself and pull it out, shaking it a bit to clear the light layer of dust it's accumulated. I cough a little and pick up the lamp, being careful to keep it away from the fabric. I turn it off and close the attic door, heading back to my room quickly. I strip out of my clothes, checking the dress before slipping it on.

I struggle to tighten it but manage to bend my arms in just the right way to get it. I step in front of the mirror, my eyes widening. Doing a twirl I giggle, loving the way it feels and being shocked at how well it fits. I tie it up as nicely as I can and allow the skirt to drop. It brushes the floor so I know it doesn't really matter what shoes I wear.

I may not have any fancy gloves to wear with it but no matter. I slip on some old heels that surprisingly still fit and stand up, getting my bearings. I pull myself together rather swiftly, putting on just the smallest amount of makeup. I had to wait until the ball had started to actually prepare. The last thing I need is my father questioning me.

Once I'm all done up, I take one last look in the mirror and will myself not to cry.

I've put my hair up in basically the only fancy style I can manage with what I have

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I've put my hair up in basically the only fancy style I can manage with what I have. It's just in a teased ponytail with a few pieces loose so it looks like it's been pinned up. I open my door, looking both ways before hurrying down the stairs. I may not have been to these events but I've always practiced; in the hopes that one day I'd be allowed to attend but it seems like I'm making my own opportunity here.

I don't want the attention of taking the grand steps so I sneak through the lower hallway that the servants come through. I open the door and am met with the sounds of music and laughter. It's like I just knocked down a wall and entered an entirely different atmosphere.

Where the main house is dreadful and quiet, this place is alive and thriving. I enter cautiously, looking around for my father. As I pass by a table, running my fingers along it, I hear something clatter to the floor. I glance down, hoping I haven't broken anything. Upon picking it up I see it's a mask, as if by fate, it's green with gold accents.

I look around seeing a few people wearing them, others not. I figure I won't look too suspicious and it'll conceal my identify well enough. I place it on, securing the ties at the back and continue on further into the large room. I have no worries now about anyone recognizing me so I drift between the people dancing, my only thought being her.

After about half an hour of searching, I've begun to think she hasn't come. Until, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of red. It seems they're heading out to the garden and I know it's a long shot, but I follow hoping it's her. By the time I manage to get past all the people, I fear she's already gone.

I open the door, the chilly night air erupting goose eggs on my skin. I look around, the dim lights of the garden not helping the low visibility. Then I hear it—heels lightly clicking—and I spring into action. I follow it before it stops and I see her, just perching on a stone bench. I hide behind a bush for a while, just watching her tap her foot.

"I can feel you staring" she calls out but doesn't turn her head at all and I figure maybe she's just bluffing. We all get paranoid sometimes, right? "Come on out" she commands and my feet carry me over on their own volition. Her head slowly raises and her gaze meets my own causing a shiver to run through me.

"And who might you be?" she asks as I have yet to speak due to the sudden lump that has formed in my throat. She's even more beautiful than I remembered and I find myself speechless. "Mallory" I lie and she hums as if she can detect the deceit in my voice. "And you are?" I counter which causes her to smirk for some reasons.

"Sit" she instructs and I walk over until I'm right in front of her, turning to sit beside her. I carefully spread my dress, trying to prevent wrinkles. She turns to face me, the harsh closing of her fan making me flinch. Her hands comes closer to me and I freeze, not knowing what she's going to do. I only return to earth when I feel the mask slipping off my face.

She catches it effortlessly in her hand that holds her fan and my eyes widen. What if she recognizes me?! I'm put at ease when she shows me a small smile. "Now why hide such a gorgeous face?" she asks quietly and I glance down shyly. I can't believe she just called ME gorgeous, I mean, look at her. "You're prettier" I whisper and I feel her finger graze my chin before lifting my head so I face her again.

As our eyes finally meet without obstruction, I feel a sense of belonging I've never felt. As if my eyes were always meant to meet hers, our gazes destined to be cast upon the other. "Always look people in the eyes, dear. It's makes them nervous" she smirks and I struggle not to look away. I get pulled into her gaze as if I'm Alice and the world behind her eyes is my personal wonderland.

"I think that's just you..." I mumble and she quirks an eyebrow. "I mean—you just have this look... it's hypnotizing" I add and she chuckles softly. "I've lived a long time, dear. Not much intimidates me now but when I was your age... it was much different" she replies distantly and it seems like she's more so looking through me now.

She shakes her head slightly, her smile dropping. "I must be heading back" she sighs, standing up and brushing off the skirt of her dress. "But—you never told me your name" I remind her, suddenly finding a bit of courage. "Madonna, sweetheart. Madonna Tremaine" she replies before beginning to walk out.

Just before she's out of my sight, she turns around and her hand lays gently against the tall bush. "And I know your name isn't Mallory. You should work on your lying" she teases with a wide smirk on her face before disappearing behind the bush. I stay in place, staring at the spot in which she once stood.

Is Madonna even her real name? I mean, she would've had every right to lie also. I realize a smile grows on my face as my body buzzes with excitement. I place my mask back on and head back into the house, heading directly to the door I came in. I've fulfilled my attendance at this party and I'd much rather be in bed.

As I strip and get ready for sleep, she's still on my mind. It's as if the redhead never leaves my thoughts. My mind ruminates on how every word seemed to drip off her tongue like honey from a honeycomb. Madonna, or whatever your name may be, I hope to see you again one day soon...

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