Mary’s small hands ran over the glossy cover of Vogue, staring at the model on the front of the page. Her eyes began to glaze over as she daydreamed about her 16-year old self on that front page instead of the model. She dreamed about being wrapped in the latest fashions, she dreamed about her face transformed, as elegant as a doll’s. She imagined everyone sighing at her beauty, other models seething with jealousy at her charisma.
Mary slowly rose from the sofa and went to get herself a cool drink from the kitchen, but stopped short as soon as she saw the girl staring back at her from the mirror. The girl stared at Mary with glazed, black eyes: the eyes of death. Mary saw the girl’s hair each auburn strand in a thick bush of unruly knots. Two teeth protruded from her lips, giving her the image of a hare. Her nose was bent and crooked from the time she fell down the stairs.
Or was she pushed?
Mary sank back down onto the sofa, and brought her knees to her face...over and over.