Everything Under The Covers (Plastic Wrappers)

Training Days

2016

I woke up with a start, from a fitful dream and found everything dark. I was unable to see anything around me, confused, Feeling disoriented, as a dream slowly faded from my subconscious. I rooted around for my phone and picked it up to check the time...7 missed calls and 80 SNS messages. I noted from my lockscreen. It was only 5:40pm, yet it felt like the sun had already set. I had somehow fallen asleep while daydreaming, checking the notifications, I saw that most of the calls were from a my mother. Knowing her, she'd probably been informed of my ditching school and would have wanted to know my reasons. Or maybe, she'd wanted to warn me about Devilin's visit. Debating with myself, I decided to call her back later, deciding that if it was an emergency, she'd have gotten across to me via Kendra. I opened my SNS messaging app and noted that most of the notifications were from various groupchat. The most active one being the one I shared with my groupmates. 1889 messages in total and they were still coming.

"These raging psychopaths" I muttered.

Knowing them, they had probably been fighting over something mudane that had escalated to a nasty game of who could throw the most seasoned insults. Debating if I should join in and reply their prompts, I decided to clear just my chats. "Better not to get involved" I had enough to deal with. I didn't want to add their toxic posturing to my struggles. Although I had debuted at a young age, so had my team; the older girls then had ranged from ages 13 to 16 and were seriously catty as hell, as expected from pubescent Teenagers. They were all shades of cruel and I had to quickly adapt to being in a group that definitely didn't welcome me. I was the outcast At my age, still a child but unusually tall, as I towered over kids my age. I was a bit chubby on account of my mama's poor dietary feeding habits. So, I looked older than my age and could generally pass for a "cherubic 13 year old" they said.

A-List consisted of 6 barbie doll-esque teenage girls. The goal was to make us an identical unit of blonde hair, light eyed, bronzed, long limbed goddesses. Charity Bennet was our leader and queen bi*ch, descended from the "Boston Benetts" ; old money shipping magnates. Her father had doted on her and raised her to expect people to fall at her feet and kiss the ground she walked on and she constantly picked on me. As a child entering a world of glamour, teenage girls were self indulgent and self centered so I was nearly always ignored and treated as an annoyance in her sphere. But as years rolled by, coupled with the loss of her mother and the horror at her father marrying a cocktail waitress a few years later, she needed a punching bag for her frustrations. Since I was the youngest and weakest link,I became the prime target for snide comments on my looks and weight.

It was difficult losing my baby fat; even after years of debut. Charity turned her ire towards me at every given opportunity. Physical, emotional and mental onslaughts delivered on a daily basis. With her sunny smile, sweet southern charm and all American princess looks, it was easy for her to escape punishments. I also believed it peeved her that I was a better vocalist, getting better attention for my talent despite my looks. At Charity's side, was Chastity.

Chastity Angelica Maples, the daughter of Jules maples the owner of Maples and associate, a southern gentleman lawyer who represented some of the oldest and wealthiest people in the world. The apple of her father's eye and the spitting image of her mother, she was sweet but had grown up alone due to her father's concerns about security. She hadn't had much friends and had attached herself to charity. The came herself as a pair and did almost everything together.

Brie Jones was of Samoa and Japanese descent but with her huge eyes and mixed features she looked like a cross between a young ken wantanabe and Madison beer. Brie was Hollywood royalty, born and raised in the west coast. Her father was the head of a big studio design firm. She had debuted as a solo singer at age 13 with a positive responses. The studio enticed her with a much more successful redebut as a center position in the group. And so she bleached her hair and wore contacts to match the rest of the group's aesthetics. Brie was an okay person, she didn't take anyone's bs and always clashed hard with charity. But, She never paid any attention to me, usually glancing through me like I didn't exist, she wasn't interested in being an older sister to an impressionable me.

Mabel Morales and Octavia Perry were the only ones not born into wealth, Mabel was Midwestern with dark curling hair and a big gaptoothed smile. She wasn't pretty in the typical sense but she had handsome features. She looked arresting when she performed on stage. Natural charisma in her movements. She was oldest member but the quietest and generally acted as a referree whenever Brie, Octavia and Charity would clash. She and I once bonded over being the outsiders, but as time passed we naturally became distant.

OCTAVIA was the visual member. An epitome of beautiful. She enchanted everything around her. With her huge bright green eyes and silver blond platinum hair. Her hair fell like feathers around her heart shaped face, dimpled chin and arrogant nose and permanent pout. Her fair complexion made her look like a siren. Irresistible and loved across the world, truly a sight to behold. She stood at 5 ft 9, she rivaling me currently in height. Charity met her that one time and threw a big jealousy fit; rejecting the idea of "trailer trash" daring to be around her and sharing her spotlight. Octavia, Beiing 15 at the time, was street smart and quite vicious, having being raised in poverty. Living hand to mouth on government cheques with her junkie mother. She was raised tough and had no qualms planting a fist in Charity's spoilt face. The two always fought like alley cats. Some fight's the company director even had to separate. After He threatened to kick them both out, The two girls called a truce, agreeing to be civil for appearances and career sake. But their dislike for one another was palpable. Mortal enemies that cheered at each other's downfall and prayed for the others' misfortune.

That was my team. Number 1 girl group in the world with multiple awards, credits, records, and scandals. All projecting under a "perfect" image. Closing the app with a sigh, I clicked on the lamp close to my bed, trying to turn in on. The room stayed dark. Surprised, I tried it a few times, until i was satisfied it wasn't going to light up. Confused, i wondered if the bulb had died, I rarely used it so it should have lasted more longer. I stood up from the bed to turn on the main light switch. It refused to work neither. Looking around the dark room, I noticed how eerily quiet it was.

"It's probably an issue with the electricity. I'll find Kendra to resolve it".

Turning on my phone flash light, I slowly stalked out and moved across the hallway, down the stairs. Moving to the kitchen, I became suddenly hungry. I walked in and saw that my food had been laid out for me covered in a small flask. I sat down to eat, still aware of how the house's atmosphere felt strange. The lights weren't on, no refrigerator buzzing sounds, no beeping of any appliances. I looked outside the kitchen's glass door and was startled to see a glow of something purple streak across the sky. It looked like lighting.

" A storm is probably approaching. Maybe that's why the power is down". As i finished my food I realized with a sinking feeling, that I hadn't seen or heard any of the staff moving around. No security, no Kendra, no support staff. I wondered if they had they been ordered to go home since Devilin was home. I knew he valued his privacy. Biting my lip i worried over the wisdom of us being alone together.

"No staff. Did he dismiss the guards as well?" With growing dread I realized that with no electricity, the security system would not be active...and with no protection, I was a sitting duck. I suddenly became terrified; Past trauma of being stalked and harrased by random crazed people over the years flew through my mind. I clutched my phone as an idea suddenly bloomed. I could call for a taxi or ask someone, maybe Kendra to pick me up. As I touched the screen, my hope died. I hadn't charged it. The constant notifications and messages had killed the battery, finally. I looked outside debating if I should just leave.

"Maybe I should just walk down to the main store or pharmacy. There would be enough people mingling about, although I'm scared of being recognized and what if I get mobbed? I'd rather take my chances than to be left in this dark spooky house. Deciding quickly to leave, I opened the kitchen door, Walking out and following the back terrace path, out to move towards the service gate.