B – Bradford
She heaved him off her with a disgusted grunt, the older man asleep on top of her, and got out of the bed. Slipping on a robe, she made her way to the bathroom. Once inside she turned on the shower, her hand under the water, testing the temperature of the spray. Once it felt scalding to her touch and was more than uncomfortable on her skin, she climbed inside. Letting the blistering torrent rain down upon her body, she closed her eyes tight.
Every night, every time she fell asleep next to her fiancé, she performed this ritual. It was the one time she would admit that what she was doing disgusted her. She knew she was basically whoring herself, and for what? A magazine? Yes she could rationalise it in her head but at the end of the day she was on her back, legs in the air, and she sure as hell wasn't in love with him. She wouldn't have even looked twice at Bradford if he couldn't supply her with the power she craved.
She felt the water searing her, almost feeling as if it was dragging the top layer of her skin away with the stream. She needed it, it was cleansing, it was cliché, but it was symbolic of her washing her sins away. She could allow herself to feel ashamed and miserable as she repented in the confines of the shower, knowing that as soon as she stepped out she would start the vicious circle all over again. Would this be the rest of her life? Even if she did successfully marry Bradford and gain what she believed to be hers, would she have to remain married to him forever? She knew if she tried to divorce him, he would make sure she got nothing.
She turned off the water and looked down, watching the last of her sins, swirl down the plughole. Stepping out, she redressed in the robe and came to stand in front of the mirror. Feeling nauseous, as she did every night at the fact, that mere months earlier, Claire would have stood in the same place; completing her bedtime ritual, calling out to her husband in the bed she now shared with him.
Staring at the reflection, she didn't recognise the woman staring back at her, couldn't distinguish the girl she had been. She straightened, fixing herself with a steady glare in the mirror. Ok, she may not be with Bradford for the most honourable of reasons, but she was making him happy wasn't she? This had also become part of her ritual, convincing the woman in the mirror that her actions were justified. So what if she was making him believe she loved him while she carried on with Dwayne behind his back, was it any worse than what he did to Claire? No, in fact what he did was worse, he had a full blown love affair, he cheated relentlessly on the mother of his children. He deserved what she was doing to him...he did. She told herself this repeatedly.
'Willie?' She heard a sleepy voice call from the bedroom.
Setting her shoulders, smirking at her reflection, she saw the old glint come back to her eye. 'Coming darling.'