CHAPTER EIGHTY: A Natural Prison

There’s nobody to blame here, but me! I let my desperation cloud my judgment. But dealing with my mistakes won’t do me any good. What I need now is to find a way out!

Sitting in front of a vanity mirror, I can’t control my tears from streaming down my face.

The makeup artist sighs loudly, her patience wearing thin. "Just because I'm cashing out a big payment for this, doesn't mean you have the right to make my job harder."

My hands clench in my lap, and hiss back, "Then leave me alone! If you don't, I may do something to you that you'll regret!"

The makeup artist falters. "I-I can't. J-just let me do my job, and be done with it."

My eyes suddenly land on the makeup artist's phone, placed on the bedside table. And an idea crops up in my mind.

I abruptly sit up, and begin hurling objects around the room in a fit of rage. Perfume bottles, brushes, and even flower vases flow through the air, clattering against the floor.

When I’m close enough, I snatch the phone and quickly hide it in