Glass

The white fabric hung down, trailing into a train that would soon grace the velvet carpet of a chapel. Soon, the bells would ring and this dress would be the glistening glamour of the cover of magazines. The dress would almost become an icon, it was so beautiful. Modern, with a sweetheart neckline and Swarovski accents. Classic, lace trim adorning the hips leading down to the satin train. It was one of a kind. It was almost sickening.

It wasn't the dress that was bothering. It was when the dress would be adorned. To whom the dress meant the most to. Staring at the dress, it was painfully beautiful. The yearn to love it endlessly, but the conflict of wanting to loathe it. To tear it to pieces without a second thought. The dress would stand along side a Tom Ford tux, worn by the last standing heir to the Stevenson clan.

I wished it were Zack.

"You're going to make a beautiful bride," Stephanie cooed in my direction, her eyes greedily looking over the satin fabric, as if it were her own. It would never be hers though. She lost her fortune. No man would want to marry her now.

"I know," I replied and she nodded approvingly. Stevensons are so conceited.

She sighed, "And to think you almost wouldn't be wearing this beautiful dress," She reminded me.

I pinned my shoulders back, cold eyes staring into the double mirrors in front of me. The dress was beautiful. A Vera Wang original, handcrafted just for little ol' me. A dress thousands would die for. A dress girls slayed over, threading needles until their hands bled.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I confessed and she grinned brightly at me.

"Louboutin will be shipping your shoes shortly. I assume you've seen the sketch designs, yes?" She asked, finally turning her back from me to wander into the closet.

"Yes," I replied.

"Good. We changed up the style a little. A more Princess Diana meets Fergie kind of thing," She smiled. It sounded horrendous, but I wouldn't argue. The other Stevenson would probably never get her proper wedding. It was only right that she lived her dream through me.

"Sounds beautiful," I replied and she returned, a dress garment in her hands. She was hiding something inside it, and I wondered if it was another dress option for the rehearsal dinner.

She hung it on the dressing rack, grabbing a black box of Louboutins in the corner. She turned to me with a smile. I didn't miss the glistening look of mischief in her eye. Something Stephanie held close to her. She may of lost her fortune, but she was still conniving as ever.

"I had this dress picked out specifically for tonight," She grinned.

"I don't recall anything being on the agenda," I reminded her, but she ignored me. She turned to the garment bag and unzipped the front, revealing a freshly pressed Alexander Wang cocktail dress. Black with studs lining the sides, soft feathers adorning just one shoulder. It was beautiful, as was anything Stephanie picked out.

"You're going to the club tonight with Craig," She announced and I narrowed my eyes.

"I don't go to the club with Craig, ever. That's what Allison is for," I reminded her of the blonde girl who was strikingly similar to me. A way to keep the press away from my personal life, "Besides, it's Sunday. Craig doesn't go to the club on Sunday."

"He does tonight," She grinned widely. A cheshire cat smirking in the windows of her eyes, "He's entertaining guests."

"I was never told of this," I argued, "Craig always tells me of things a week prior," I told her and she nodded.

"I know, I know. He just didn't want you to get overwhelmed," She approached me with a hand on my cheek, as if she were comforting me from something. Something I wasn't aware of yet. The menacing dark look of trouble never left her eyes as she smiled softly at me, "It must be hard to come face-to-face with an ex," She stated.

Zack.
Zack was coming to the club tonight.

"No," I pushed her away and turned. My eyes wandered over the city beneath me. The city I loathed with all my heart, "I won't be attending with him tonight."

"You must," She stated sharply, "He specifically requested your presence to be made tonight. He's so excited to be talking of the wedding finally,"

"He can speak of it without me. I will not be within the same room as him," I told her.

"As who?" She pressed and my lips pressed into a firm line, "Please remind me, Vi. I don't recall who you wouldn't want to see," I could see her reflection in the glass of the window, smiling sweetly at me.

"I don't want to be around Zack Baker," I confessed and she grinned triumphantly.

"Who says you have to? The private lounge is always open for us. You could always just avoid him. I'm sure," She reminded me.

I remained silent as she took the dress of the hanger, examining it. She wished she still could wear the clothes I was given on a daily basis. New outfits for every day. New shoes for each week. It was almost exhausted. Yet, one could never exhaust from luxury.

"Please send Jane up," I requested, "I'd like to get ready for tonight privately."

She glared, but knew she couldn't protest. I was, of course, in higher standing than she was. The staff would take orders from be before her.

I was sick to my stomach. The vile of vomit coming up, only to be forced back down as I tried to remain calm as Stephanie exited the room, the slam of the door echoing throughout the room. I tossed myself down on the couch, still wearing the Vera Wang gown. The gown I would wear once again in three weeks time for my wedding.

Zack.
Zack Baker.
The infamous Zacky Vengeance that plagued my thoughts for a year. He had managed to invade every dark crevice of my mind. Every piece of imagination. No thought could escape him. He was my thoughts. All the time, every day, every night. Every waking moment I wondered where he was, what he was doing, who was he with.

I almost forgot the rest of the band, I thought about Zack so much. He haunted me in every dream. Every night I fell into a dark abyss of wishing I was home in his arms. And every morning I was reminded that the world was cruel, and that Zack was hundreds of miles away. It was Craig who had his arms around me.

Every morning when I saw the bare arms, no trace of colorful ink whatsoever, my heart sank. It sank when I opened my eyes to see crystal blue ones staring back at me. I seemed to have forgotten the forest that once lurked in Zack Baker's eyes. What color green was really hidden in his eyes? Was it sea foam? Or was it the dark green pigments that colored the darkest trees in winter? I wondered if they were clear or cloudy. Perhaps, even, soft like the velvet that was similar to his voice.

His voice. Oh, his voice. The soft and shy voice he would speak in when we lay in bed at night. The whispers he would coo into my ear. The strong voice he would speak in when taunting me. Ordering me to pick up orders or file receipts. The voice that resonated throughout the house. The deep velvet that was my blanket. My comfort.

"You called for me, Miss Kennedy?" A voice asked.

I turned to face Jane. My young and bright-eyed assistant was already dressed. A plain black dress with plain black flats. She wasn't meant to stand out next to me, in case the press snagged a picture of her. I was the focal point. I was always the center of attention.

"I need to get ready for tonight," I replied.

"Of course," She nodded.

Jane sat me down at the vanity and I stared deep into my reflection. My blonde hair was a little dull from lack of sunshine. I hadn't been outside in a month. I was perfectly content staying in the own world I closed myself off in.

She was quick to start twirling my hair in her fingers, deciding what she was to do with it. Jane was my right-hand girl. She worked for the hotel, but was practically my personal assistant. She accompanied me on the few trips I took leaving the room. She was always the one to get me ready for anything. Jane, without a doubt, was the closest thing I had to a friend.

"Would you like your hair up or down tonight, Miss Kennedy?" She questioned.

"Craig isn't here, Sweetie. I'd prefer it if you called me Violet," I corrected her, "I'd like to leave it down, please."

She nodded, taking out a medium sized curling iron to plug it in to heat up. I leaned back in my chair, sighing as I tried to keep Zack's green eyes out of my thoughts.

"Vi?" She asked.

"Hm?" I nodded up at her.

"Is he going to be there?" She asked.

"Of course, Jane. Craig is always there with us," I reminded her as if she had forgotten what she had eaten for lunch. She came to the club whenever I needed her, which was only a handful of times. I didn't like to wander out of the confines of my own room.

"I didn't mean Craig," She said softly and my eyes snapped open.

I looked at her through the reflection of the mirror. Her brown hair was piled up in a bun, her blue eyes popping as she looked at me with regret. She wasn't sure what to make of the question. It amazed me how Jane, barely nineteen, could already understand so much about me without having me to explain anything. It's like she understood.

"Yes," I answered, "He will be."

"Are you going to talk to him?" She questioned.

"No," I answered curtly, "I have no reason to. I'm loyal to my fiancee," I noted.

She nodded sadly, "I could always talk to him for you?" She suggested and I sat upright, glaring at her.

"You will do no such thing, Jane," I stated firmly, causing her to jump from shock.

I didn't snap at Jane often. In fact, it was when the subject of Zack came up that I became irritable. I snapped at everyone, including her. I watched as she slowly nodded, a piece of my hair falling from her fingertips as she tried to compose herself.

"I'm sorry," I sighed and she relaxed, "But I don't want any contact with him, or the rest of them, for that matter. I've moved on. There's no point in speaking to them," I explained and she nodded, continuing with curling my hair.

How could I speak to him? I had hurt him enough. I destroyed him. If it weren't for me, Zack would be so happy right now. He'd be married maybe, even have the kids he always wanted. Of course, I came in the way of that and I destroyed him.

Perhaps it was simply just in my nature.
Maybe I was born to destroy hearts.