YAY! Chapter 3! Boo-ya!
Oi, it took a while to get around to it..
I'm sorry D:
But I hope you like...
it makes me happy when you like it.
…. that sounds dirty.
O.o ahh! the images! T.T
kidding kidding!
Enjoy!
~bells
OH YEA, WARNING AGAIN
Courtney and Duncan don't really... sound like themselves.
I apologize if it ruins it T.T
D: Now I'm all worried!
The morning of the reunion...
Courtney's POV-ish:
As she stares at herself in the mirror, taking in every little detail of her recently flawed face-courtesy of Justin the night before-she barely resists the urge to groan. She feels so... ugly, in that moment, as she takes in the massive bruise that laces her right cheek-framing her right onyx colored eye so delicately that it makes her believe that's the only gentle thing that's ever been bestowed upon her, but she brushes the thought aside.
It's not the first time she's had to cover the marks up.
Reaching into her make-up bag, she rummages around until she pulls out the concealer and power, and she begins the process of masking her face. She starts with the area around the bruise, and tries not to flinch as she finds it is tender still-after she had so vigorously scrubbed at the dried blood that laid contently over it-but in th end, she swallows her resolve and quickly and silently masks the bruise.
She loathes how she must do this whenever he makes a mark on her face, in order for her to go to work, in order for them to not see how beaten she is. How torn. She scoffs silently as she moves on to masking the other half of her face, not because there is a mark there-oh dear, there have been many-but rather to smooth everything out, to make it look... normal.
The limo will be coming for her soon, and her stomach churns softly as she thinks of everyone she hasn't seen in six years. She wonder how they've changed.
She wonders if Bridgette has told them, or if the media leaked it to them.
When she is done working on her face, and once she enters back into the master bedroom, her gaze slides to the black dress she had to smuggle and hide from Justin, it will be the dress she will sing in at the Aftermath set when she makes her appearance. She admits, she is nervous, it's been forever since she's sung in front of a crowd of people, not to mention on live television. Right now, though, she can only gaze fondly t the black material, the way it is cut and trimmed so that it will fit her curves as if it were a second skin.
She remembers the way she looked at herself in the mirror when she first tried it on, and how, for the first time in a long time, she felt beautiful.
Sighing fondly at the memory, she slips the dress onto a hanger and slides the protective cover over it, folding it carefully so as not to ruin the dress and placing it her travel bag. It's probably the only thing she'll need, today, but she still stuffs her phone into the travel bag as well, and that's that.
She's lucky that Justin's out for the day, but she knows he'll be home at 6 sharp for his dinner, he always is. If she's not there, she figures the consequences.
Thankfully, the reunion only lasts until 4, and she's desperately hoping Justin won't see it on the news or hear it over the radio. She takes a deep breath, then reassures herself that she can make it two more days until the court date.
She feels herself becoming smug, for on that day will be the day Justin will be enraged, she knows. He will probably end up losing everything, after her case is presented, and she idly figures he'll be sent to jail, and that will end his modeling career.
Before she can revel in the outcome of her upcoming divorce, she finds herself startled by the honking of an impatient horn outside her-she catches herself, his- house. Her legs move beneath the fabric of her jean capri's, and her toes curl nervously beneath her socks which are encased by her black flats. Her purple shirt, which adorns a black belt that cinches at the waist, moves with her as she leans over slightly to grab her travel bag.
On the way out, she grabs her keys to the house and locks up, nervously finger brushing her hair as she strides down the two steps, hitting the concrete, and she is met with the sight of Chef holding the limo door open to her. As she passes him, she looks up and without thinking, she salutes him with a small smile.
It is neither mocking, nor degrading, she is purely doing it because he had once been an ally to her, and had once stood by her when Duncan had left her for Gwen.
Chef looks stunned for a moment, but as she's entering the limo and sliding across the seat, out of the corner of her eye she sees him salute back. It makes her smile again, if only for a moment.
When he's in the driver's seat, he asks,"Pretty boy's not coming?" "He has a modeling shoot," she replies casually, though she figures right now he's probably screwing his manager in the back room like she once caught him doing. It sickens her slightly, but she reminds herself that soon she'll be gone from that world. That horrible, tainted world with that model who never gave an ounce of caring towards her, in reality.
The ride to the aftermath studio is silent save for the radio up front, which is set on a police reports channel that she barely holds interest in, zoning herself out as she gazes silently and stoicly out the window. She does, however, let her hearing hone in when the report is on a women that was reported to the hospital a while back, apparently now, her husband was behind it, and now he is serving 15 years in jail for it.
15 years, the statement whispers through her mind, and she quietly wonders if that will happen to Justin.
He'd deserve it, a voice in the back of her mind says bluntly, and she doesn't know whether to agree with that or deny it, he is human, after all.
Is it worth getting beaten almost every night, because he's another human? She asks herself, and she knows the answer.No, no it is not. It never will be.
Before she knows it, the limo is stopping outside of the aftermath studio, only in the back, thankfully. She doesn't wish to face reporters or fans or any of that right now, not until after.
When the limo stops, she has to will herself to fill with that dignity and pride she once had flowing through her veins so strongly, but was now doused with the water of hatred he spilled on her the moment he started taking all his anger out on her.
She hates him.
As she steps out of the limo, Chef accompanies her to the door, since she's the last contestant he had to round up. He kindly holds the door open for her, and she's grateful, but she doesn't voice it as she walks past and finds herself in a beige colored hallway lit with three lights leading to another door.
When she passes through this door, she finds herself in a room bathed in black-or as most would refer to it: backstage. In the corner, there stands a single vanity with a mirror lit by light bulbs that trace the mirror's edge, and in front of it stand two girls that don't look much older than Courtney herself. They introduce themselves and she finds they are her make-up artists for the day.
Courtney's shuffled into the chair that sits in front of the vanity, and after telling them she already has concealer on, they get to work.
They crimp her hair, and she finds herself feeling a tinge of pride as she sees how her hair falls perfectly, in jagged waves that fame her face just right. They outline her eyes and make them pop, and for once, there's a slight sparkle that adorns the onyx that's usually set in a blackened state all its own. They even pain her nails-a soft black that's not too black as to make people think she's goth, but just right to compliment her dress.
When they're done working on her, she thanks them and stands while the direct her to the changing room-a door in the back.
Grabbing her traveling bag, she heads towards the door, and when she's in there, finally alone with the door closed, she slides to the floor and sits silently, going over the lyrics to the song she's to perform. It's the first song she'll ever publish, and she admits she's rather happy about it, but she can't help being nervous, since she wonders what everyone will think.
She's still hoping that Justin doesn't find out.
She wrote this song based off of what she's been through, sort of, she changed the lyrics probably at least nine times, and finally settled on the ending result. She hopes it will sound alright, at least.
After she's done, she changes and slips the dress up onto her; it's a beautiful black dress that hugs every curve and ends at mid-thigh, it is also strapless. She scuffs her black flats on the floor, gazing at herself in the mirror before she leaves, carrying her travel bag which now holds her clothes in it, along with the hanger and protective cover. One of her make-up artists-Stacy is the name, she's blond with a short stature and a tiny waist, and bright brown eyes-kindly offers to hold her bag while she sings and is interviewed, and Courtney hands it over, forcing a smile.
Her eyes are drawn towards the curtain that masks his room from the stage, and her curiosity gets the better of her, since it's been so long since she's seen this place. She pulls back the curtain enough to peak through, and she finds herself staring.
The aftermath studio has indeed changed, that's for sure. For now, there are two stages, the original is where the couch is, with the two bleachers lining it. She can barely make out Geoff and Blainley's equally blond hair, but she gets a clear view of the others. Most of them have changed, some have not, she doesn't note which ones have and have not, yet.
She's waiting.
For what, no one can know but her, as her attention is drawn to the sound of a guitar that's playing on the stage that stretches out in front of her. She's not really surprised when she sees Trent up there, strumming his guitar like he's been doing for years, with the audience eating it up before him.
And as she pulls back into the shadows, she starts remembering things from the show, and her heart tries to cinch up withing her chest.
She won't let it, yet.
Duncan's POV-ish:
He was bored.
So intoxicatingly bored as he watched Elvis-better known as Trent- go into his fourth song of the day.
But it was amusing to him, as well.
Considering that his now ex-wife was completely taken by him, watching him with those wide eyes of hers. He'll admit, he did miss her, she sat across from him on the other set of bleachers, zoned in to Trent's strumming.
He hated it.
But as he fumbled with the skull in his pocket, he kept thinking of how ironic this all was. Gwen had returned the skull to his hands the moment she told him she wanted a divorce. First Courtney, then Gwen.
Courtney, the name is whispered in his mind, and his chest automatically tightens. He knows why, and he hates it. He wishes this would stop.
Yet it never did, it started when Courtney left Total Drama World Tour, and it never ended. Not even on him and Gwen's wedding day, or night, and even when they were getting a divorce, it didn't hurt as much as the hurt over Courtney did. It was always there, lurking... waiting. He wished he would have been smarter as a kid, but he knows he can't change anything, now.
Speaking of Courtney, he immediately scans the crowd for her face again, and the disappointment from the first time of not seeing her here still lingers, even after he finds she's still not there. The last time he saw her face was on a magazine, three years ago, when she married Justin.
And not one word about her was spilled into the tabloids, after that.
He'll admit, he looked for her for a time, but eventually gave up after Gwen became nagging and tried to figure out what he was doing. She always was a curious goth, he had to give her that much.
When Trent's strumming ends, everyone claps, and Duncan lets himself clap as well, if only for show. He doesn't really care, though, he'd much rather be somewhere else than this place since she's not here.
Blainley's voice can be heard loud and clear as she says,"And yet another astounding performance by Trent Goldmen!" Chris chuckles next to her, sitting on the couch with his hair the same as it used to be, and with him in a black tux. Geoff and Bridgette are seated next to him, and Duncan finds himself zoning out as they gossip about Trent and his 'musical magic' as they put it.
Yet, he finds his ears perking slightly as he hears Bridgette announce,"And up next is a friend I haven't seen in a long time, she's recently been working on an album, and it will be published in a few weeks, I'm excited to hear her first song!" Blainley ooh's as does some other girls, and she says,"Well let's hear it then! Give it up for Courtney!"
Duncan's heart nearly stops as his eyes glide over to the curtain, watching it pull back as a beat starts humming through the whole building, and out walks the girl he used to be bound at the hip with.
His collar seems to be tight around his neck as he sees her for the first real time in six years. He hasn't changed that much, only got ride of a few piercings when Gwen nagged at him about it, even if she had once said she loved them.
He's beginning to realize a lot of flaws in their relationship; flaws that had lurked in the shadows of doubt behind a door he never chose to open, until it was over.
But all thought is erased as he catches her face in the light, and he sees how she's changed, herself. Well, at least her body.
He listens to the beat if the song, and he waits for her to start singing.
He finds himself becoming amused as he realizes that this is going to be a lot more interesting than Elvis's performance.
Soooooo...
How was it?
Was it... h-h..h... horrible?
~choke, sad face~
D: I hope you liked it! I'll... edit if I need to x.x
~pouts~ I hope you liked! The next chapter should be better...
ALSO
What song should Courtney sing? I was thinking like...
Good girl's gone bad by Rihanna or...
Impossible by Shontelle 0.o
idk, you guys choose
and if you dooooo
You gets HUGSSSSS
ANDDDDD COOKIESSSSSSSS
ANDDDDD... idk what else, you guys choose dis time ;D
~bellzeh