Distortion

Lauren stood at a distance, clutching her clutch to her stomach as if shielding herself from the lamps whose spotlights cast new shadows on the guests' faces. She felt as if all eyes were on her, as if everyone knew what had happened in the car and that it wouldn’t go unpunished. “Lauren,” a familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts, and, looking up, she saw Valentina’s predatory eyes. “How are you?” “Everything’s fine, thank you,” Winter forced out, adjusting the shawl on her shoulders. “Didn’t know you’d be here.” “I got bored,” Valentina drawled, but her gaze remained hard, cold. “I thought you were smarter. Seems I was wrong.” “What do you mean?” Lauren tilted her head slightly, throwing a glance at Barnes, who was talking to someone. “Time you remembered that everything has ears and eyes that will betray you,” Valentina took a step closer, closing the distance. “You landed such a good position, and you thought you could also fix your personal life? I wanted to make you a person worthy of career heights.” “Can’t one combine personal life and work?” Lauren gave a short laugh, but her thoughtful, distracted gaze burned through the crowd. “No. Everything has its price, Lauren. You just can’t grasp that, no matter how hard I try.” “You tried? I don’t remember you investing anything in me.” “Exactly, 'you don’t remember, '” she stepped in front of the girl, drawing all attention to herself. “Soon you’ll forget this conversation too. I’ll wipe you back to a shell that will eventually drown in its own drool.” “Just for disobedience? Sounds rather inhumane.” “No one knows you. No one remembers,” the woman’s voice turned into a threatening hiss, but Lauren’s face remained just as detached from everything happening around. “And they’ll forget just as quickly as the next fleeting trend. You think you matter to anyone?” “Yes,” Lauren looked straight at Valentina. Her gaze, stern, withstanding the pressure, made the woman’s eyebrow twitch at the audacity. “You presume a lot if you think you can decide human fates.” Valentina said nothing, taken aback by the words Lauren delivered like knife thrusts. “We’re done,” Winter said, stepping aside, but then turned back and added, “I quit.” Everything inside her churned—fear, anger, the desire to disappear. But the words had already left her lips, and Lauren couldn’t take them back. “What happened?” Barnes turned when Lauren touched his shoulder with a trembling hand. “We need to leave,” she said. Pale with fear, in her bloody-red dress like a protest to the entire hall, the girl hurried outside. The street met them with damp wind and the roar of cars. The noise, but after the hall, it seemed like silence. “Was that Valentina?” James asked, catching up to Lauren on the street. He grabbed her wrist, unconsciously, as if wanting to stop her, warm her with something. “Yes,” she nodded, for the first time not shaking off his hand. Was it because she was 'different' or were they 'different' now? “Where are we going?” “I don’t know,” Lauren stopped, looking at Barnes. “There’s no place for me here now. Valentina will destroy me. You shouldn’t ruin your life because of me.” “We need to lie low,” he said firmly, looking at the girl’s tired, melancholy face. “Go somewhere, I know places.” “Why would you do that?” she looked up at him, the yellow streetlights reflected in her eyes. He was silent, not knowing what to say. What could he say? How could he help a person who didn’t remember themselves, but whom *he* remembered? “Because friends… well, friends do that, right?” James finally blurted out, unable to think of anything better. “Friends?” Lauren laughed quietly, almost sadly. “Alright. We should hurry if we want to grab our things.” “I know a great spot in a fishing village where we can lay low,” Barnes, supporting the girl, gave a slight smile.