Shadows In Durango

*****Sofia's POV*****

Vincent led me down the hall, his hand warm and firm around mine, his grip tight enough to make me think that he was desperately stopping himself from storming back to Sergio and throttling the man...

We stepped into the spare bedroom, and he closed the door behind us with a sharp click. The tension in the air between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. His jaw was clenched, and his usually soft eyes were burning with anger. "I'm sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "That guy is an absolute" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "I didn't know he'd be like that. If I'd have known, I wouldn't have let him within a mile of you. He's a rude fucking asshole!"

"It's okay," I said quickly, even though it really wasn't. My pulse was still racing, and my skin felt like it was crawling from the way Sergio had poked and prodded at me. "I can handle it. It's only for tomorrow, right? This has to work with his help, so let's just give him a chance at least?"

Vincent stopped pacing and turned to look at me, his expression softening just a fraction at my reasoning. "You shouldn't have to handle it, Sofia, none of this is good for you - I feel fucking terrible about it. This is already enough without some guy making you feel like a fucking art display..." He trailed off, his fists clenching up again.

I gave him a small smile, trying to ease the tension. "I'm fine, Vincent, honest. I promise that it's all ok. Let's just get this over with, I'm brave enough for this."

His gaze lingered on me for just a moment longer before he nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But if he tries to demand anything else that I feel crosses the line anything at all—then he's out of here. I don't care how good he supposedly is at his job."

"Yeah, deal," I said softly, even though I wasn't entirely convinced that Sergio wouldn't find a way to push Vincent's buttons again since he was more than unbothered by him.

Vincent grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top from a dresser and handed them to me. "Change into these," he said, his voice still tight. "I'll step outside for a minute."

I nodded, watching as he walked out of the room and shut the door behind him. For a moment, I just stood there, holding the clothes and staring at the door. The reality of what was about to happen hit me again, and a shiver ran down my spine.

Tomorrow wasn't just another day it was thee day.

Shaking off my nerves, I quickly changed into the tank top and shorts, the fabric hanging off of my body loosely. The thin material left more skin exposed than I was comfortable with, but I told myself that it was better than having to strip down to my undies in front of everyone...

This was only another crucial step in my fight to freedom...

With a final sigh, I opened the door, finding Vincent leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw still set in a hard line as his eyes raked over me from head to toe before he grumbled out his approval.

"Let's get it over with then..." He presses, suddenly straightening up and reaching a hand out which I take - allowing for him to take charge on leading us back to Sergio and his father.

We made it back to the room to find Sergio waiting on the arm of the sofa, his arms crossed and a look of impatience etched on his face. "Finally," he stated, drawing out the word as though we'd made him wait for hours when it had only been mere minutes. "Come, come. Let us get started."

I hesitated at the doorway, feeling suddenly exposed under his critical gaze as Vincent's father was now seated in the single armchair in the corner of the room - watching on as I wished he would have gotten bored by now, choosing to leave the rest of us to it.

Vincent stepped forward, his presence steadying me. "Do what you need to do," he told Sergio, his voice low and firm. "But keep it professional."

Sergio waved a dismissive hand, clearly unimpressed by Vincent's warning. "Oui, oui, yes I understand your English, calm down. Now, go over there and sit." He gestured to a free spot on the sofa as Vincent's features creased in disdain. "Now, for the main event! Put out your arm so I can test out what shades will look more realistic on you..." he asks, although he proceeds to take a hold of my arm, pulling it out for himself.

As I remained still, becoming the main focus in the centre of the room, Sergio pulled his case closer and began unpacking his tools as my cheeks grew hotter.

Brushes, palettes, small jars of liquid and powder in varying shades - it was a makeup artist's arsenal, but the purpose of these tools felt far more cruel...

He got to work quickly, dabbing dark pigments onto a sponge and pressing it against my skin with precision. The first touch of cold, damp makeup made me flinch, but I forced myself to stay still.

"Do not move," Sergio instructed, his tone sharp as he grabbed my chin and turned my face toward the light again, I'm guessing to examine my skin tone once more?

"You already have some fading bruises? Real ones?" He queries, as I nod once - praying that he wouldn't want to know why and where they came from.

I didn't feel up to explaining why I had found myself trapped in my crazed ex-boyfriend's basement as he took a psychotic break... not now, not ever did I want to think about that again!

Sergio suddenly pressed a thumb in to one of my bruises, earning a hiss from me as I found it to still be extremely tender.

Vincent, who was seated just a few feet away, took to his feet in an instance, "Watch your fucking hands, are you an idiot?!" He snaps, as my lips part at his quick response.

Sergio raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, focusing instead on his work. "I must say," he muttered as he blended a dark purple bruise onto my cheekbone, "you will look very convincing after this. Zey will think you have been through the wars!" He chuckles, as Vincent eventually takes his seat again.

I swallowed hard, trying to push away the creeping sense of dread that rose up my throat. This wasn't just makeup; it was a visual story of pain and control that we had hoped to paint.

But at the end of the day, this was only makeup, and the rest would be up to us...

Sergio moved down to my arms next, applying small, but realistic mottled bruises along my biceps and forearms. "Turn zis way," he ordered, and I complied, my stomach churning with every touch.

As he worked, Vincent sat by silently, his hands clenched into fists at his sides while his father remained intrigued.

I could feel the pent up frustration radiating off of him, but he didn't say a word, probably knowing that it would only drag this out longer...Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

"Almost done, I think some neck markings will top this off!" Sergio announced after finishing with one of my legs, stepping back briefly to admire his work so far.

He used his thumb this time, dragging lines around my neck area before seeming to dab it away with a dry cloth. Then, he grabbed a gel like texture from his case, instructing me to close my eyes as he pressed it in to the corner of my left

one.

"Ahh! Yes, perfect," he said finally, clapping his hands together before shifting me with my shoulders to fully face the other two - like I was a flimsy doll. "Now zat is a woman who looks... abused."

The words hit harder than I expected, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from meeting my emotions.

Seeing Vincent's shocked expression and his father's nods of approval, made what we were doing feel the most real that it had so far... there was no turning back now, we were in too deep!

Vincent's father let out a low whistle from the corner of the room as he stood. "Well, I'll be damned. Sergio, you've outdone yourself. Will this last long enough?" He asks, as my eyebrows furrow at the question. He had a fair point, what if it smudges or fades through the night?!

Sergio beamed at the praise, clearly pleased with his work. "She will be most convincing, no? But no, it is professional, permanent makeup." He states, as my lips part.

"Permanent?!" I repeat in a breath, only causing for the little French man to laugh in my face.

"No, no, you silly girl! It is called 'permanent' but means that it lasts up to a week! Once dry, it will stain the skin for days!" He flaunts his arms around as he explains, as though it were common sense.

Vincent stepped forward next, his body tense as he looked me over. His eyes lingered on the fake bruises, his expression dark and rigid. "Thanks, It'll do," he said shortly. "Now pack up and get out," Sergio frowned but didn't argue back, quickly gathering his tools and stuffing them back into his case whilst his father was the one to make small talk with the man.

"Let's go upstairs, you'd better take a look at yourself before you get a fright!" Vincent leans down to say, as I swallow back my nerves.

Was it that bad? That real? I guess that would be a good thing though... right?