What Happens In Mayrose: The Story Of Stacy Green

Chapter Eighteen

It's funny how time works. How slowly it moves when you'd wish it go faster. And how quickly it flies by when you wish you had more. Before these past two weeks, Yara had never paid much attention to time, and the speed that it moved. But now, the only sound she could hear was the ticking of the clock.

It was nine-thirty at night, as Yara sat at the desk in her bedroom, trying to come up with a few more designs for her line. Trying to pretend she hadn't told one of the darkest secrets of her life. Trying to pretend that things were just an ounce of normal.

She tapped her pencil at the same beat of the hands moving on the clock. Her mind was blank of any ideas, other than how maybe, just maybe, she could get away. Just packing everything up, except her pride, and making a run for it. Just maybe...

Suddenly, a gentle knock came from her closed bedroom door."Hey."

Yara spun in her seat to see Teresa smiling in her doorway. Behind her was Yara's mother, Sierra, swaying around like a jellyfish.

Yara placed her elbow on the tip of the chair. "Uh, hey. W-What's up?" She couldn't even look at Teresa without seeing her other betraying, lying face. But then again, Teresa wasn't the only one who was two-faced.

Teresa walked in, Sierra stumbling in after. "We wanted to see how the designs were going, considering your gala is in two days." She came behind Yara, and noticed all the blank papers lying around her desk. "You seem frazzled."

"Yeah, well I've got a lot on my mind," Yara replied, rubbing her head on her desk. Then, she froze. She could feel Teresa's hands grabbing her shoulders, and kneading them in and out. To others, it would feel relaxing, but just knowing that these hands tried to choke someone she knew. It sent horrifying ideas into her head, making her blood completely stop.

"These diamonds are so pretty!" 

Yara and Teresa turned around to find Sierra scouring through Yara's stuff, and now holding up a glistening necklace and twirling it around like a cat with string. "Oooh, shiny!"

Yara looked back at Teresa with a bland face. "She's drunk again isn't she?"

Teresa nodded. "Between the gala, and your suspect accusations, she needed some numbing. The wine seemed to be the only thing that worked."

Yara scoffed, not at all finding that surprising. What Teresa called "numbing", Yara would call insensible. Half of the time, it felt like she was talking to a brain-dead zombie who knew how to accessorize rather than her mother.

She rolled her eyes indifferently and continued tapping her pencil on her blank paper. "And, uh, what about my father?"

Teresa's face went soft, as she once again began massaging Yara's shoulders. "He's... busy."

That wasn't surprising either. Leave it to Henry Davis to be "busy" when his daughter was at the top of the murder list. Yara just tapped her pencil more violently, her fingernails now digging into her palms.

Teresa tilted her head, looking at Yara with empathetic eyes. "Tell you what? How about, when all this blows over, you and I can go on a little trip? Just the two of us. What do ya' say?"

Yara lifted her head, staring at her white walls, her eyes darted with flecks of anger and rage inside them. "Tonight," she said, just enough for Teresa to hear.

Teresa furrowed her brows, now moving up to Yara's hair and stroking it. "What was that Yara?"

Once again, Yara swiveled in her chair and looked at Teresa with suspecting eyes. "Where were you tonight? I haven't seen you all day."