Rivals In Pink Lipstick

Rivals In Pink Lipstick

Nalya Thomas

Rivals In Pink Lipstick

Copyright © 2024 by Nalya J. Thomas

This publication is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events depicted herein are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental and unintended.

All rights to this publication are fully reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder. This includes, but is not limited to, the reproduction of text, illustrations, or any other content from this work. Exceptions are made only for brief quotations used in critical reviews or scholarly analysis, provided such use is consistent with the principles of fair use under applicable copyright law.

        Table of Contents

Moving Out

Bonnie’s bedroom floor was scattered with the last remnants of her childhood, a bittersweet collection of memories waiting to be packed away. The walls, once adorned with posters and pictures, now looked bare and cold, reflecting the reality that she was leaving this chapter of her life behind. Bonnie sat on the floor, her legs crossed, carefully placing items into a box. Her brown eyes welled up with tears, but she quickly wiped them away, not wanting to show any weakness. As she picked up a stuffed animal her father had given her when she was little, a wave of nostalgia hit her, and she smiled sadly, clutching the bear close to her chest.

The door creaked open, and the sound of footsteps announced her mother's presence. I hope you’re not packing that, Betty said, her voice rasping with her thick Southern drawl, a cigarette dangling from her lips. The tone was gruff, but there was an underlying concern in her words. Bonnie looked up, startled, and let out a small laugh. Hey, Mom, she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of surprise and resignation. She knew better than to argue with her mother, especially over something sentimental.

Betty took a long drag from her cigarette, her sharp eyes scanning the room. Are you almost ready to go? she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Bonnie sighed, rising to her feet. Yeah, she said quietly, glancing around the room one last time. She had only packed two boxes; everything else would be provided at the dorm. Betty seemed to read her daughter's thoughts, as she often did. The dorm will have everything else you need, she said curtly, her voice devoid of any warmth. Bonnie held the bear close to her chest, feeling the softness of the fur against her skin, a last connection to a simpler time. Give me that, Betty demanded, her tone leaving no room for protest. Reluctantly, Bonnie handed over the stuffed animal, her fingers lingering on it for a moment longer.

Without a word, Betty turned and headed outside, the screen door slamming shut behind her. Bonnie followed, her heart pounding with a sense of impending loss. As she stepped onto the porch, she watched in horror as her mother pulled a lighter from her robe and set the bear on fire. The flames licked hungrily at the fabric, consuming it quickly.

No! Bonnie cried out, reaching for the burning bear, instinct overriding reason. Her hand made contact with the flames, and she hissed in pain as she pulled back, the stinging sensation shooting through her fingers. She dropped the charred remains, tears streaming down her face. Betty sneered, her expression hardening as she picked up what was left of the stuffed animal and tossed it into the fire pit, watching it turn to ash. Get your stuff so we can go, she hissed, lighting another cigarette and placing it between her thin lips.

Bonnie stood frozen, staring at the woman she called her mother. Her normally brown eyes were now reflecting the golden hue of the fire, the flames dancing in her pupils, casting an eerie glow on her face. It was as if the firelight revealed something deeper within her, something hardened and unyielding. Cover your eye while you’re at it, Betty spat, her voice cold and dismissive. Bonnie’s shoulders slumped as she turned back into the house. She knew better than to argue or show any more emotion.

Inside, the air was thick with tension, a silence that echoed through the empty halls. Bonnie headed to her mother's room, her zebra-print makeup bag already packed and waiting. She looked at herself in the mirror, regret pooling in her eyes. The reflection staring back at her was not the one she wanted to see. Her left eye had a dark shine around it, a bruise forming from the previous night’s altercation. A small bald spot marred the middle of her head where her hair had been pulled out. She sighed, pulling her hair into a tight ponytail, trying to make herself look presentable, even though she felt anything but.

Rummaging through her mother’s bag of expired and dried-out makeup, Bonnie found some concealer, adding water from the sink to thin it out. The scratchy brush tugged at her skin as she tried to cover the purple bruises on her pale face. Her mother’s brown eyes stared back at her from the mirror, but there was a softness in Bonnie’s that her mother lacked—a lingering innocence that hadn’t yet been fully crushed by the harshness of life. Good enough, let’s go, Betty called out, yanking her daughter’s arm as she passed by the door. There was no tenderness in the gesture, just urgency.

Bonnie was led back to her room, where she picked up one of the boxes, her mother grabbing the other. Together, they carried them outside and loaded them into the car. The boxes had to go in the backseat since the trunk was already full. Push the window up, Betty instructed as she closed the trunk with a grunt. Bonnie obeyed, pushing up the passenger rear window that had been stuck halfway down for months. Pass the tape, Bonnie said, holding out her hand. Betty handed her the roll of clear tape without a word, and Bonnie carefully taped up the window, sealing it as best she could. She then climbed into the passenger seat, her broken door handle forcing her to pull the door closed through the open window.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Bonnie glanced back at the house, a lump forming in her throat. She wondered if leaving home would be the new beginning she desperately hoped for or just another chapter in the same painful story. Betty’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, her knuckles white, but her eyes remained focused on the road ahead. There was no going back now, only forward into the unknown. As the car sped down the narrow country road, the silence between Bonnie and Betty grew thick, only broken by the hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the old car. Bonnie stared out the window, watching the familiar landscape blur by, but her thoughts were far from the passing scenery. Her heart was still pounding from the encounter on the porch, the image of her burning stuffed animal seared into her mind.

Betty kept her eyes fixed on the road, her expression stony, but there was a tension in her posture that hadn’t been there before. Her hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, and her jaw was clenched, as if she were fighting back something she didn’t want to say. The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Betty broke the silence, her voice rough but quieter than before. I didn’t mean to upset you, Bonnie, she said, her tone almost reluctant. I know I can be hard on you sometimes, but… I just want you to be strong. Bonnie’s eyes snapped away from the window, focusing on her mother. The apology caught her off guard, but it didn’t soften the anger that was still simmering just beneath the surface. She clenched her fists in her lap, trying to keep her voice steady. Is that what you call it? she said bitterly. Being hard on me?

Betty’s grip on the wheel tightened further, her knuckles turning white. You’re going to need to be tough out there, she replied, her voice still gruff but tinged with a hint of defensiveness. The world isn’t kind, Bonnie. It’s better to learn that now than be blindsided later. Bonnie let out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to make me tough, you’d see what it’s doing to me. I’m not a child anymore, Mom. I don’t need you to burn my stuff or yell at me to prove some point. Betty’s eyes flicked over to her daughter briefly before returning to the road. She sighed deeply, the sound filled with a mix of frustration and something that almost sounded like regret. I’m sorry about the bear, she muttered, the words coming out slowly, as if each one were being dragged out of her. I shouldn’t have done that.

But the apology did little to soothe the ache in Bonnie’s chest. The years of harsh words and cold gestures couldn’t be erased so easily. She took a deep breath, feeling the anger bubbling up again, but this time it wasn’t just anger—it was sadness, disappointment, and a deep-seated hurt that had been festering for too long. It’s not just the bear, Mom, Bonnie said, her voice trembling despite her efforts to keep it steady. It’s everything. It’s how you treat me when you’re angry, when you’re drunk. You think you’re making me strong, but all you’re doing is breaking me down. Betty’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes hardening. I don’t drink that much, she said, but her voice lacked conviction, as if she didn’t quite believe her own words.

Bonnie shook her head, tears stinging her eyes again. I hate who you become when you drink, she snapped, her voice rising with the emotion she’d been holding back for so long. You’re not just hard on me—you’re cruel. You say things that cut deep, things you can’t take back. And then you act like it’s all for my own good, like I should be grateful for it. But I’m not, Mom. I’m not grateful. I’m just tired. Betty’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, she didn’t respond. The tension in the car was palpable, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words and long-buried pain. Finally, Betty exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping slightly as she seemed to deflate, the anger draining out of her.

I’m sorry, she said again, this time more sincerely, her voice softer, almost vulnerable. I don’t know how to be any other way, Bonnie. It’s how I was raised. But I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to hate me. Bonnie looked at her mother, searching her face for something—maybe a sign that things could be different, that the walls between them could come down. But all she saw was the same woman who had raised her, tough and unyielding, yet beneath that, there was a flicker of something more, something that looked like fear. I don’t hate you, Mom, Bonnie said quietly, her voice tinged with sadness. I just hate how things are between us. I want to be close to you, but not like this. Not when it feels like I’m always walking on eggshells, waiting for the next explosion.

Betty swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the road as she processed her daughter’s words. The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t the same oppressive silence as before. This time, it felt like the quiet after a storm, where the air was still thick with tension but there was a sense that something had shifted, even if just a little. I’ll try, Betty said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. I’ll try to be better. I don’t want you to feel like this anymore. Bonnie nodded, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. That’s all I want, she said softly. Just… try. The rest of the drive passed in a somber quiet, both women lost in their thoughts. The road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, there was a faint glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. They had a long way to go, but at least they were taking the first step.

 Packing The Princess

Ugh, can you please be careful with that? Some of us actually have valuable things, and I really don't want to spend my afternoon replacing anything you guys break, Daphne hissed, her voice dripping with impatience. She stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot as the movers struggled to fit another box into the already cramped truck. Cindy, Daphne’s mother, chuckled lightly from the porch. Ha! Anything that’s broken, your father will pay for, she said, the corners of her mouth lifting into a half-smile.

Daphne’s confidence wavered momentarily under her mother’s gaze. She shot Cindy a sheepish glance, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. But the moment passed quickly, and Daphne turned back to the workers with renewed indignation. What are you staring at? I need to leave in less than an hour! she snapped, her voice rising in pitch. The men exchanged annoyed glances but continued their work, muttering under their breaths as they lifted the last of the boxes. Cindy, leaning against the doorframe, eyed her daughter with a mix of curiosity and concern. Are you excited for your big day? she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Daphne nodded, but her enthusiasm seemed tempered, as if something held her back from fully embracing the moment. She glanced over at her father, Connor, who was nursing a glass of whiskey, his gray hair gleaming in the afternoon sun. Waste of time if you ask me, Connor said, shrugging nonchalantly. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, not bothering to meet Daphne’s eyes. Daphne’s expression darkened, her brown eyes narrowing to slits. What do you mean? she demanded, her voice laced with a dangerous edge. Connor took another sip of his drink before answering. Your mother and sister didn’t go to college, he replied with a shrug, his tone dismissive, as if the idea of higher education was a trivial matter.

Daphne’s back straightened, her chin lifting defiantly. Well, college isn’t for everyone, she said, her voice taking on a haughty edge. She looked down her nose at her father, her earlier uncertainty replaced by cold determination.

Cindy, who had been quietly observing the exchange, frowned and turned away, heading back inside without another word. Daphne noticed, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She’s throwing a temper tantrum, she said with a hint of pride, her voice almost gleeful as she giggled. Connor, however, was unmoved. That’s just how women are, he said with a knowing smile, downing the rest of his whiskey. He set the glass down on the porch railing before adding, I don’t think college is a place for a woman. Daphne’s hands flew to her hips, her posture rigid with anger. Then where’s a place for a woman? she challenged, her eyes blazing with fury.

The kitchen, Connor replied, his tone infuriatingly casual. The dismissiveness in his voice was the final straw for Daphne, who, with a cry of frustration, hurled her designer purse at him. The bag hit him square in the chest before falling to the ground with a thud. Connor chuckled as he bent down to retrieve the purse. Like mother, like daughter, eh? he said, turning to one of the movers with an amused grin, clearly unbothered by his daughter’s outburst. Daphne stormed into the house, slamming the door behind her. Her heart pounded in her chest, not just from anger but from the deep-seated frustration that had been building up over the years. Her father’s casual dismissal of her dreams, her mother’s passive acceptance—it all felt like a betrayal, a constant reminder that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be good enough in their eyes.

She stood in the foyer for a moment, trying to steady her breathing. The house was quiet, too quiet. Outside, Connor was finishing up with the movers. We’re all done, one of the men said, wiping sweat from his forehead as he emerged from the truck. Perfect, Connor replied with a smile. Your payment’s on  the kitchen table, and my wife made lemonade. He watched as the men headed inside, one by one, eager for their cold drinks and the money they’d earned.

Daphne stood by the window, watching the scene unfold. Her eyes lingered on her father’s face, noting the ease with which he interacted with the movers, the way he seemed so at home in his own skin. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned inside her. She wanted so badly to prove him wrong, to show him that she was more than just a girl destined for the kitchen, but deep down, she wondered if she’d ever escape the shadow of his disapproval. As the men left, Daphne turned away from the window and walked to her room. She would go to college, she would succeed, and she would do it not just to prove a point, but for herself. But the weight of her parents’ expectations—or lack thereof—hung heavy in the air, a burden she wasn’t sure she could ever fully shake.

And yet, as she packed up the last of her things, a small part of her held on to the hope that one day, they might see her for who she really was, beyond their narrow definitions of what a woman should be. Cindy hesitated outside the door, her hand hovering over the doorknob as she listened to the muffled sounds of Daphne moving about her room. She could hear the tension in her daughter’s footsteps, each one heavy with frustration and anger. Cindy took a deep breath, steeling herself before gently turning the knob and stepping inside.

The room was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of a table lamp casting long shadows across the floor. Daphne stood by her bed, her back turned to the door, folding a shirt with a mechanical precision that betrayed the storm of emotions roiling inside her. She didn’t acknowledge her mother’s presence, but Cindy knew her daughter well enough to sense the simmering resentment beneath the surface. Daphne, Cindy said softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and hesitation. She stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

Daphne didn’t turn around. She kept folding the shirt, her hands working faster now, almost as if she could outrun the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. What do you want, Mom? she asked, her voice flat and devoid of the haughtiness she’d shown outside.

Cindy sighed, her heart aching as she watched her daughter struggle to keep it together. I wanted to see how you’re doing, she replied, her voice gentle as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. She reached out, her hand hovering just above Daphne’s shoulder, hesitant to make contact. I know that wasn’t easy. Daphne stopped folding, her hands freezing mid-motion. She stared down at the shirt in her hands, her knuckles white from the tight grip she had on the fabric. He’s such an ass, she muttered, her voice trembling slightly.

Cindy nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He can be, she agreed, her tone laced with a weary understanding. She placed her hand on Daphne’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. But he doesn’t know everything, Daph. You’re doing something incredible. Don’t let him take that away from you. Daphne finally turned to face her mother, her brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. Why does he have to be like that? she asked, her voice cracking as she spoke. Why can’t he just be proud of me? Cindy’s heart broke a little more at the vulnerability in her daughter’s voice. She wished she had an easy answer, but the truth was, Connor had always been set in his ways, stubbornly clinging to his outdated beliefs. He’s scared, Cindy said after a moment, her voice soft. He’s scared of change, of losing control. But that’s not your fault, honey. It’s not about you.

Daphne bit her lip, looking away as she fought to keep her emotions in check. It feels like it’s about me, she whispered. Cindy stood up and pulled Daphne into a gentle embrace, holding her daughter close. I know it does, she murmured, running a hand through Daphne’s hair. But you have to remember that you’re not doing this for him. You’re doing it for yourself. And I am proud of you, even if he doesn’t say it. Daphne clung to her mother for a moment, taking comfort in the warmth and understanding that Cindy offered. She wanted to believe her, to hold on to the idea that her father’s opinions didn’t define her, but it was hard. The weight of his disapproval was a heavy burden to carry.

Cindy pulled back slightly, looking into Daphne’s eyes. You’re going to do great things, Daphne. I know it. And one day, he’ll see that too. But until then, just know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Daphne nodded, a small, tentative smile breaking through the sadness. Thanks, Mom, she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Cindy smiled back, brushing a stray tear from Daphne’s cheek. Come on, she said, her tone lightening as she stepped back. Let’s finish packing. You’ve got a big day ahead of you. As they worked together in silence, a quiet understanding passed between them. Though the road ahead would be challenging, Cindy’s support was a steady presence, helping Daphne find the strength to face the future with renewed hope.

Moving In

Bonnie’s heart raced with excitement as she peered out from the passenger seat of her mom’s old, trusty car. The engine sputtered and groaned with each turn, but the familiar rumble was a comforting sound as they finally pulled onto the sprawling college campus. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the buildings. We’re almost there! Bonnie squealed, her voice bubbling with joy as she bounced in her seat, her anticipation palpable. Betty chuckled, a rare, soft smile lighting up her face. She reached over, ruffling Bonnie’s messy brown hair affectionately. I know, sweetie. It’s been a long journey, but we’re here.

They navigated their way into the administration office to collect Bonnie’s keys. After a few formalities and a quick chat with the office staff, they made their way to Bonnie’s dorm. Bonnie’s nerves were a mix of excitement and apprehension as she approached the large wooden double doors. With a deep breath, she knocked tentatively. The left door creaked open, revealing a striking figure standing in the doorway. A teenage girl with vivid purple hair and piercing brown eyes greeted them. Her hair was styled in a wild, captivating way that perfectly matched her intense gaze. Her ears were adorned with a constellation of silver piercings, and two lip rings caught the light with every movement. Dark eyeliner accentuated her features, adding to her bold and confident appearance.

Bonnie felt a flutter of nerves, but she tried to steady herself. Betty’s initial reaction was less than welcoming; she eyed the teen with a hint of skepticism. I’m Raven, the girl introduced herself, extending a hand with a friendly smile that softened her intense look. Bonnie hesitated for a moment before shaking Raven’s hand. I’m Bonnie, she said, managing a shy smile in return. Raven’s smile widened, revealing a genuine warmth. Nice to meet you, Bonnie. I’ll show you where your room is. Oh, were the rooms assigned? Bonnie asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

No, Raven replied as they headed up the stairs, her tone casual and informative. You and your roommate just happened to move in late. The rest of us got here yesterday.

Bonnie scratched the back of her head, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment. Yeah, I know we’re late. We had a lot going on. Betty, clearly unimpressed, added with a sneer, That’s none of her business. Raven glanced at them both with a curious but understanding look, her expression betraying no judgment. I get it. Moving can be hectic. Here we are. As they reached the door to the room, Raven stepped aside, allowing Bonnie and Betty to enter. Bonnie’s eyes widened as she took in the space. It was larger than she had expected, with plenty of room for her belongings.

What do you think? Betty asked, sitting down atop one of the beds and surveying the room with a critical eye. It’s bigger than my room at home, Bonnie said, her smile growing as she took in the space. She felt a sense of relief and excitement at the prospect of making this her new home. Yep, Betty replied, her tone a mix of approval and practical advice. You have lots of space here. Just make sure to tell your roommate to stay on their side. Half of that closet is yours. Bonnie’s grin widened as she visualized her own side of the closet, which was already larger than her closet at home. The promise of space was a comforting thought. As Raven prepared to leave, she turned back to Bonnie with a thoughtful expression. If you need anything or have questions, just let me know. I’m around.

Bonnie’s heart skipped a beat at Raven’s kindness. Thanks, Raven. I really appreciate it. Raven gave her a warm, encouraging smile. No problem. I’ll see you around. As Raven left the room, Bonnie turned to Betty, her excitement bubbling over. She’s really nice, Bonnie said, her eyes sparkling. Betty’s expression softened slightly, though she remained guarded. Yeah, she seems okay. Just keep your head down and focus on settling in. Bonnie nodded, but her thoughts were already on the new beginning that lay ahead. As she explored the room, she couldn’t help but think about Raven’s presence and how her initial, somewhat intimidating exterior had given way to a genuine warmth. The chemistry between them had been instant, and Bonnie felt a flicker of hope that this year at college might be different—better.

Before either woman could say more, a blonde stormed into the room with an air of entitlement and flopped dramatically onto the other bed. After a few moments of restless shifting, she stood up and sauntered over to Betty, plopping herself down beside her with a huff. My daughter will be taking this bed, so you’ll need to move, the blonde announced, her tone dripping with condescension. Betty’s face flushed with anger, her protective instincts immediately kicking in. She shot Bonnie a look that said, Who does she think she’s talking to? before turning her glare back to the blonde.

I’m talking to you, the blonde snapped, her eyes narrowing with disdain. Why does my daughter have to be stuck with a trailer trash roommate? Bonnie’s mouth fell open in shock, but she tried to defuse the situation. C’mon, mom, let’s just move to the other bed, she said softly, her voice pleading as she tugged gently on her mother’s arm. Betty’s eyes were steely as she stood her ground. I’m not going anywhere, she said with a firm resolve, her voice low but filled with defiance. The blonde’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the power play. Well, neither am I, she retorted, her tone oozing superiority.

Bonnie’s heart raced as she looked up at her mother, her eyes brimming with tears. The tension was unbearable, and she wished her mother would just back down. My daughter was here first, so it’s her bed, Betty reiterated, her voice tinged with frustration. The blonde scoffed. I’m not moving, she declared