The redhead by the island situated in her daughter’s kitchen sighed as she studied a picture of her sweet innocent Rora. Smiling up at her [or more like at the camera], was the light or her eyes or what used to be.
Jennifer Reese couldn’t quite yet fully comprehend what had happened to her Rora back in London in 2010.
What had happened to bring out this dramatic change in her? What could possibly change her fun loving, sweet girl into this… this indifferent and slutty girl that got into boys like a bag of sinfully delicious chocolate?
What? What? What?
Those questions had been haunting Jennifer Reese ever since the first she’d caught Rora repeatedly on the cover of ‘Socialite Weekly’, the gossip mag that tore up heiress and their lifestyle.
Seeing her beloved daughter changing into this girl was a sore sight and hard to contemplate. During the past two years, Jennifer wanted to just run herself into a ditch and forget everything. But she couldn’t.
As hard as everything was, her daughter needed her. She needed her mother.
Rora needs me, she’d mutter to herself when she found herself thinking of suicide. Aurora needs me.
Remembering Aurora begging to be allowed to go to London, she regretted ever going against her husband. Why didn’t she just agree with him when he’d disagreed? Why? Jonathan [Aurora’s dad] had not wanted his only girl going halfway across the world. ‘She’s only seventeen for goodness sake,’ he’d yelled.
Now, sitting here, knowing the consequences of her actions, she regretted it so much.
Why hadn’t she listened to John? He was always right, as proven by the billions he’d accumulated from nothing over the years.
Jennifer tried to think over the conversations on the phone, she’d exchanged with her daughter two years back.
Denver and Rora had called every day to let them know that everything was peachy as Rora said.
Jennifer reminisced over the days. The anticipation she felt when she waited for her Rora to call her and yap on and on about their visit.
The redhead stopped her reminiscing as she remembered a chink in their normal routine.
That was three days before she came home.
Two days prior to that, Jennifer remembered having to wait by the home phone. She waited and waited but no ring came.
She’d glance at the time again.
The worry any mother would feel for her daughter rushed through her.
Rora should’ve called already. She should’ve called twenty nine minutes ago.
What was going on?
Jennifer remembered Jonathan walking in and seeing the worry clearly etched on her face.
“Jennifer darling,” he had said. “Rora’s alright. Don’t worry.”
She ignored his reassurances and continued to watch the phone, begging it to ring.
“No John,” she argued. “It’s not like her to not call. She should’ve called already.”
Jonathan placed his strong hands on her shoulders.
“Darling, she must be busy,” he reassured. “She’s a teen.”
“But- But- -,” suddenly the phone rang, cutting her off.
Jennifer paused for a slight second, afraid that it was her mind playing games with her and giving her what she wanted to hear. But then a beat later, the phone rang again, shriller than before.
Jennifer instantly dove for the phone without further thought.
“Hello? Rora?” she’d nearly yelled into the phone with worry.
“Uh… no Mrs. Reese,” the person on the other end replied. “It’s Denver. I’m…. uh… I haven’t heard from A since yesterday. Have you heard from her yet?”
Jennifer gasped as she dropped the receiver, only catching a slight sight of John grabbing it and speaking into the phone.
Something bad had happened.
She could feel it.
Something bad had happened to her sweet, sweet Rora.
Suddenly the tears overflowed as she cried clearly, for she knew… she knew without a doubt that something was wrong.
Somewhere, out there in London, halfway across the world, her precious Aurora was hurt.
And… and here she was, back at home, unable to ease away the pain her daughter was going through.
Jennifer came out of her thoughts and memories as her iPhone’s shrill ring echoed in Aurora’s condo.
Tucking the photo of Rora safely back into her D&G handbag, she grabbed her phone, not even glancing at the caller ID.
She knew who it was before she’d even answered it.
“Yes?” she said as she nodded.
She knew what the person on the other end was calling about.
She had to agree. She had to do it for Rora.
“Yes,” she began, her tone firm and determined, letting whoever called that she was a hundred and fifty percent in it. “Let’s go through with it.”