Chapter Text
She was perfect. Her beautiful porcelain skin, deep cerulean eyes. She always had her hair permed and primmed. I can’t simply imagine how lucky she is. Mirror, mirror on the wall, she’s the fairest of them all. Rosy blush and a rich, floral scent that followed her everywhere. She captivated her audience, charming and gorgeous. The way her tits lined up with her hips. The way her plump lips kissed each other every time she spoke.
Madeline Ashton.
…
I hate it.
I hate her. I hate how perfect she is, I hate how she makes me feel…
I hate that I can't hate her. That nobody can.
Helen perched herself anxiously on Madeline’s couch, as she watched the siren pour three tall glasses of champagne. Slotting the handle into her husband's hands. She studied how she ran her finger tips over Ernest’s chest, and popped her own one out, just for fun. Her lacy pink night gown barely covered anything. She watched how the feathers on her sleeves tickled his nose. She watched her enchant him entirely, his eyes sparkling as he looked back up at her. She watched his nervous hands, how they had once been nervous to touch her, now trace down her straddling waist. She watched Mad’s eyes foxily bat in her direction. She watched them in awe. She watched them in jealousy.
“A toast!” She quickly jumped up. Helen knew her game. Give the men a glimpse at what they could have. Leave them wanting more. Wanting so much more. “To friends for life…” She smirked at Helen. Oh, how well she knew how to push her best friend's buttons. Helen felt herself scoff and look away, not before Madeline glided over and pulled her chin back in the direction of her. Of that goddess. What a pathetic bitch, can’t even handle me not looking at her once. Helen remained stubborn. She didn't look at her, she wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Her pressed, french tip nails gently pressed into her cheeks. She pulled her face up towards her, ever so slightly, so Helen couldn't look away. They paused, for a beat. She could feel Ernest’s eyes like lasers into them but she simply couldn't stop staring. She really was perfect, and while they looked at each other's eyes, Helen felt a brief moment where her jealousy slipped away.
Madeline waved her off, but she knew. Hel saw it in her eyes, her acknowledgement. The satisfaction she got from making her break. Helen scoffed again and looked away, and only then did Ernest actually give a damn. He wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her in. With his other hand he raised the skinny glass.
“Yes… it’s been… been so much fun…” He seemed out of breath, she could see the way she made people break. Break for her. It was so sadistic.
Madeleine strided back over to Ernie, grabbing his face like how she grabbed Helen’s, and she felt something bubble within her. Ernest rested his face in her hands submissively, but Mad didn’t stop glaring at Helen. Neither of them dared to break eye contact with each other, and that's when Hel decided to do something impulsive.