The Taming of Velvet Delacroix

Velvet Delacroix My entire body hummed like I was lit on fire, the heat was blinding beneath my eyelids as I stalked through the crowd with clenched fists. The event hall was full—too full. The Satterfield Annual Charity Gala. The perfect excuse for the rich to gather and flaunt their million-dollar estates, flashy cars, and pristine façades of perfection. All in the name of "giving back." As if slapping a donation on a white envelope could wash away the rot beneath their designer shoes. Please.. The tip of my heels clicked against the marble, sharp and unyielding as I pushed through, earning a few hushed whispers and snide remarks. "That's her" "Wasn't she the one who broke the Vice Chancellors' nose?" "She's mentally unstable," Mock laughter bloomed around me, brittle and high like broken glass, but I wasn't listening. I had heard the rumors so many times that i could now recite it in my sleep. I was looking for her. Madeline Thorne. She really turned out to be a thorn in my flesh. Alas,there she was—by the main fountain, bathed in chandelier light like she belonged in a painting. Dress white. Skin glowing. Smile practiced. A glass of rosé tilted delicately in one hand as she laughed with another lackey of hers. The same hand that left smudged fingerprints on my door last night. The pictures, the threats.. The same one that wrote you're not alone on my bathroom mirror in my own lipstick. "Vee" she called out as she spotted me, voice sugar-laced and stupid. "You look—wow. That dress is everything." I didn't respond. Didn't blink. Just kept walking. Her smile faltered for half a second, then returned, brighter. Like she thought this was a misunderstanding. Like I was walking toward her for a hug. "Hey, are you okay? You look—" Crack. My hand whipped across her face before I could stop myself and think twice. The sound echoed like a gunshot, and startled gasps tumbled out of the guests around us. She gasped. Staggered. And then the glass fell out of her hand, crashing to the floor in a loud heap, like the fragments of our so-called friendship that could never be put together. People stopped. Heads turned. The quartet faltered mid-note. Madeline stared at me with wide, wet eyes, her cheek already flushing with the promise of a bruise as she touched it. "Next time you want to play stalker–".I moved closer, kicking aside the large shards of glass that stood between us with my heel."At least be good at it." I reached into my bag, the metal chain digging into my arm as I brought out the evidence of her brazen stupidity. A burner phone connected to a voice modulator. Her eyes widened comically, darting between me and the object I held before her face. The crowd behind me rose to an ensemble, murmuring sorts of nonsense and spinning different theories but none of that mattered, it all came down to this attention seeking waste of space I had called a friend. Big mistake, Velvet. I could see through her doll-like demeanor, passive aggressive comments and pretentious beliefs but I chose to ignore them all after she so pathetically begged to hang out with me...only for this to happen. Madeline stumbled back, shaking her head, her mouth opening like she was about to beg for forgiveness. Or explain. Or lie again. I didn't care which. "You really thought you were smart enough to f**k with me?" I hissed, the modulator dropping from my fingers and clattering to the floor beside her feet. "You think you can crawl inside my head and I won't notice?" She backed into the fountain's edge. The edge of the marble caught the back of her knees. "Velvet, please, I didn't mean—" I grabbed her by the throat. A chorus of gasps surged behind me. "Velvet!" someone shrieked. "Oh my god, stop her!" "Is this real?" But no one moved. Not yet. "Speak". She couldn't say anything, her lips moved but no words were formed and that very fact seemed to piss me off even more. I shoved. Madeline toppled backwards with a splash, limbs flailing, her shriek cut off by the cold water. She surfaced in a sputter, hair slicked down, mascara bleeding. I stepped in after her. My heels sank, my gown dragged, but I didn't care. I grabbed a fistful of her wet curls and forced her under again. One. The water swallowed her whole. Two. She thrashed. Bubbles rose. Three. I yanked her up. She coughed, eyes wide, mouth gasping. "Still feel like playing games?" I whispered against her ear. She tried to scramble back, but I pulled her under again. Four. This time the crowd surged. A girl screamed. Someone tried to step forward. Then I looked up. Just once. And they all froze. I saw it—their terror, thick as perfume in the air. A few flinched. One boy took a shaky step back. "Don't," I said, voice sharp, clear, soaked. "Not unless you want to join her." Silence. Reverent, horrified silence. Madeline surfaced again, sobbing now, clutching at the side of the fountain like it could save her. Her white dress clung to her like a second skin. There was blood on her lip from where she'd bitten it. I stepped back, breathing hard, fingers still curled like claws. "You wanted me paranoid?" I said to no one in particular. "You wanted me unhinged?" "Congratulations." "VELVET!" The roar of my name was the first sound louder than my own heartbeat. My father's voice. I turned, slow and regal in soaked satin. He was storming through the crowd like a man possessed, his bodyguards flanking him in dark suits, eyes scanning for threats. Too late. One of them lunged forward, grabbing my arm. I jerked out of his grip. "Don't touch me." "Velvet, what the hell—" my father's voice shook with fury and something close to fear. "Have you lost your mind?" "Yes Father," I said simply. "I finally have." Behind me, Madeline was pulled out of the fountain by trembling hands—other girls, staff, someone crying. A man called for towels. Another for security. The gala was over. The illusion had shattered. All that remained was a soaked, furious girl in a ruined dress, standing knee-deep in the wreckage of her restraint.