This story features discussion of mental illness and hints at grace's less than pleasant past. I have endevoured to do soon a fair an accurate way, using my own experience of mental illness personally, as well as through my friends and my work in mental healthcare. It may not be enjoyable reading for all, however, mental illness has defined each of my relationships in some way and I feel it is important to discuss it in fiction, without either romanticising or demonising it. If mention of self-harm, depression, anxiety disorder, or sexual assault would cause you to feel uncomfortable then I'd ask you to please skip this story and pick up again in the next part. If you have struggled with these issues, please feel free to message me if you need to, I am always happy to help people in any way I can.
If you are happy to keep reading, then please enjoy!
- J
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Day 7 - Thursday
Grace hurried home, excited to see if her package had arrived. It had. Grabbing the delivery from her mailbox in the foyer, she headed up to her room and hurriedly opened it. Throwing the packing aside, she pulled from the box first a bright red dress, and admired it in the light. The material was stretchy and much more sheer than it looked in the photos: when she held it up to the light Grace could almost see through it. "I hope my confidence is up tomorrow, then," she thought. Placing the dress carefully down by her side, she picked out the next matching pair of items: black leather garter belts, adorned with shining metal studs and rings. They were tough and well made, and went so well with the red stockings which she pulled out of the box following those. Finally, she lifted out the set of plastic horns and cushioned tail that completed the outfit. She would be the hottest devil ever, she thought, and couldn't wait to try it all on.
Scooping the new outfit up, she scurried over to the mirror, and threw off her top. She paused for a moment, admiring the marks that still showed on her pale skin, running her fingers over the red lines and brown bruises as she thought about how she'd got them, and how much fun she'd had doing it. Every time she took her clothes off she couldn't help but think of him now, and every time she thought of him her heart fluttered a little, making her smile, and making her want him. She was determined to make him want her even more, and was sure this outfit would do the trick. After pulling off her jeans, she first grabbed the garter belts and pulled them up her legs, fastening them tight at the top of each thigh. The soft flesh squished a little as the metal and leather pressed against it, and Grace loved the way it looked on her slim legs, the tough black leather contrasting against her soft pale skin. Next came the brilliant red stockings, which felt soft and silky in her hands and hugged her legs so perfectly as she pulled them up. They covered all the marks and scars on her legs, which she liked - Grace hated having her legs on display, especially when her skin was bad like it was now. Finally, she grabbed the dress, and held it in front of herself for a moment, admiring the little patterns in the fabric and the attractive design. The fabric seemed to shimmer a little in the light, and felt so good under her fingers.
"He's gonna tear this thing so quickly isn't he?" she thought to herself, slipping into a daydream about the way Alex would treat her in it. She could imagine the feeling of his hands through the fabric, the way he would grip her and hold her, the way he'd show off his power and dominate her so physically. She wanted that so bad, to be roughed up, fucked, used. Tomorrow night couldn't come soon enough.
Snapping back to the present moment, Gace lifted the dress over her head, and slid it down her body, feeling it stretch and grip her curves as the zip was pulled closed. It felt amazing, hugging her tightly in all the right places, but as she looked up at herself in the mirror Grace got a shock. The dress was so much shorter on her than it looked in the photos, and by the time the thin fabric was stretched over her it was even more see-through than before; in the right light, her pale skin was visible through it. Every bruise, every scar, every little mark was showing under the red material, and she was so embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed as red as the dress at the thought of meeting all of Alex's friends dressed like this, with so much on display. The hem hardly covered the garters, even when she was standing, and her bra showed through so clearly.
"Fuck," she cursed, "everyone's going to think I'm a slut! And an ugly one at that, nobody wants a slutty girl who's covered in scars, I'll look awful, what will they think of me? What will Alex think of me? There's no way he'll want to be seen with me when I look like this, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck." She could feel her heart rate rising, her breathing becoming faster, her head starting to spin, but from panic not from excitement. The more she tried to control her breathing, the worse it got. The room span faster and faster, her vision began to deteriorate and close in around the edges, she couldn't focus on anything. She was sick to her stomach, dizzy, totally unable to think straight. Desperately she battled against the onrushing tide of panic that was washing over her. "Deep breaths," she told herself, "calm down. You're okay, nothing's going to hurt you." She tried to think what Alex would say to her. She knew he's know the right thing, he always knew the right thing to say, he always helped. "Why can't he be here?" she whimpered to herself in shaky words. Fighting against her own mind, Grace slowly managed to regain some amount of control over her thoughts.
By the time she was aware of her surroundings, she realised that she had all but curled up into a ball on the floor in front of the mirror, and glancing up at herself she saw tears streaming down bright red cheeks, and nail marks in her arms where she had been gripping herself tightly.
"I look fucking horrible," she thought outlout, sobbing. The sight was enough to swell the tide into a tsunami, a great wave of horrible thoughts crashing down on her, crushing her, surrounding her, drowning her. Desperately she reached out for her phone, and with trembling hands tried to find Alex so she could message him, but her fingers just would not work the keys, her body and her subconscious were fighting against her every step of the way. She hated to call without messaging first, but she needed to hear his voice, she needed him to get inside of her head and push those demons out, he could help her in ways nobody else had ever been able to manage before. A shaky thumb fumbled for the dial button, and eventually found it with a beep. The phone rang. And rang again.
"Please pickup please pickup please pickup," Grace chanted to herself softly as she prayed and prayed that he'd be there. Finally there was a noise at the other end of the line.
"Hey, Gorgeous," came his audibly concerned voice, "is everything okay?" He always knew when something was wrong, somehow.
Grace tried to find the words to replym but instead all that came out was a loud, pathetic sob.
Instantly she heard rustling through the phone,as Alex sprung to his feet.
"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here, what's wrong, kitten?" As he spoke he darted through his house, looking for shoes and his coat. "Are you okay? Do you need me to come see you? Are you hurt?" Still Grace couldn't seem to form words in reply, but just the sound of his voice was enough to calm her a little. "Are you having a panic attack?"
"Y-uh huh" Grace sobbed through hyperventilating breaths.
"Okay, just try and stay calm, focus on my voice, alright kitten? I'll come and see you, are you at the flat?"
"Yes," she replied, shakily, working hard to pick out his words through the sound of her own heart pumping in her ears. Listening hard, she picked out the slam of a door, and the animalistic toans of a sport car engine roaring into life.
