Devils Roses 01 - Cursed

bitch Aimee, a funny bitch. Eight sounds like it’s on.” She jumped up and down excited. I had sold my soul to the devil.
    "Keep pissing me off and I'll make you sign it in blood."
    I went to my room to decide on an outfit for the night. I wanted to go to the party. It was a new feeling, not ‘since my mom's accident new’, but since forever. I had never been the party type.
    I wondered if being at a party, would help Blake loosen up, or if he would be cranky all night long. Would he even want to come with me? If he came, would he at least try to kiss me? I had it planned out from the kiss. I just didn’t know how to get us there. I imagined we would kiss and then we could start our courting before university. My heart didn’t beat any faster at the idea of kissing Blake, but I knew we loved each other.
    I had never been kissed and it seemed like the most amazing experience when it happened in books or the movies. The idea of kissing Blake didn’t make me feel like the world would stop to give notice to our kiss, but I knew he was right for me. One side of me was reasonable and the other was romantic, just like my parents.
    I just didn’t know which side should win, in the case of romance. Alise always seemed to be in love based on her heart's decisions and that never panned out—ever.
    I looked at myself in the mirror and pictured myself in a ball gown. My dress would be soft lavender-colored and my hair would be in an up-do. I reached behind and made a bun with my hair. I could see myself, ready for the ball. I closed my eyes and imagined Blake in a tux but he wasn’t Blake. It was Shane, standing tall and handsome and putting a hand out for me. I put a hand out, trying to ignore the ridiculous smile crossing my lips.
    My heart ached again. I opened my eyes to see a flushed face looking back at me in the huge stand-up mirror. There was an awfully guilty look on the face of the girl in the mirror.
    I put my hand down and turned to face reality. Shane liked my sister and barely knew I existed, except as a tutor or the sister of the girl he dated. No biggie. As Mr. Collins would have said, 'Blake, was a very agreeable alternative.' Blake was my soul mate, or at least the mate of my mind, which I felt was more important in the long run.
    I turned and went to my closet to start getting ready. My closet was bleak, or rather black. It seemed some time ago, I had gone through everything and removed all of the color and joy from my closet.
    I groaned and grabbed a black pair of skinny jeans and a dark-blue sweater. I changed and looked at my reflection with a smirk. My sister was right, which had never happened, our mom would freak if she were here.
    My long, blonde hair hung around my gaunt face. My eyes had dulled to a lifeless grey, with no zest or expression. My skin seemed, not just white, but powdered and flat. I looked skinnier than ever and my skinny jeans looked ridiculous, hanging off of my body.
    I couldn’t help but worry, about the girl in mirror. Her once perky nose, looked a little big on her face, which had grown horridly thin. Her full lips looked chapped and peeling, I grimaced at the girl. Not kissable. Her eyebrows looked like they needed a little weed whacking and her hair was stringy.
    I truly looked like a Goth. I couldn’t deny it.
    “ Oh my God—you're not wearing that! Take that off. I will be right back.” Alise was in and out before I could register what had happened. Without warning, she stripped the clothes off of me. She tore off the sweater and pulled on a pink t-shirt, without caring how rough she did it. The long t-shirt had red lips down low on the left side. She undid my jeans to tear them off, as she knocked me to the bed and pulled at them.
    She rambled on about being old enough to dress myself, which made me blush as she dragged on the new jeans. They were dreadful. They were light blue with frayed pockets in the back and subtle whiskers in the front. There was an intentional rip in the right knee.
    I hated the outfit instantly and wanted to undress the minute I saw myself in the mirror. I looked like one of her friends, which bothered me. I didn’t even want to think about the fact I looked better.
    That being said, I felt like I wore a flashing sign that shouted, ‘look at me!’
    “ You’ve gotten too skinny for skinny jeans and you look horrid in black. You’re a spring/summer Aimee. You need color.”
    She grabbed my arm and dragged me to her room, which could