The mirror didn't lie, but I wished it did. The girl staring back at me wasn't the Ivory Walter who scrubbed grease off diner tables or hid behind oversized sweaters in the back of the classroom.
The dress was a masterpiece of malice and beauty. It was a heavy, liquid silk in a shade of emerald so deep it bordered on black in the shadows.
It clung to my frame with a precision that was haunting the plunging, backless cut exposing a vast expanse of my skin to the cool night air. Every time I breathed, the fabric shimmered like the scales of a serpent.
"Ivory! He is here!" Mom’s voice drifted up, sounding far too excited for someone handing her daughter over to a predator.
I took a final, shaky breath and stepped out of my room. My heels clicked against the wooden floorboards, a rhythmic
