Tinka finished washing her face and looked up.
There it was. The mirror.
It was always there. It had always been there, ever since she had been tall enough to see into it, always there when she looked up. It had betrayed her year after year, and today was no exception.
She beholded her face in its full glory. The bruises, the scars, the dribble of blood from the wound she had just washed.
How did she let this happen?
Well, it started when she was about two...
When she and her twin brother, Gunther, were two, their parents took them to a restaurant for dinner. Tinka was so excited, truthfully, she wet herself. She cried. Her dad took her aside and wrapped his jacket around her before taking her off to the bathroom. It soaked through. She knew she had ruined his jacket. He took her to the bathroom and to the toilet. She turned around for a moment to look at him, and saw his fist coming. It struck her and the pain was unbearable. She cried out and he hit her again. It was about that time that Gunther toddled in innocently and he started hitting her brother too. He hit them both until her lip bled and Gunther's face was a burning red. Then he made them wipe their tears and walk out like everything was normal.
Then there was the move to America. At five years old, they were rather young. The night before, Tinka had taken a beating. On the morning of the move, she couldn't wake up. Gunther took her and hugged her tight until she finally gasped and opened her eyes. She told him, "Gunther, I'm scared. Daddy's so mean."
He responded, "Don worry Tink. I keep you okay."
They flew off that afternoon. On the plane they discovered a make-up that hid the scars. They decided at such a young age to get it when they could, because they hated when the people on the plane stared at them. It made them think it was their fault.
Tinka (being sort of able to read) memorised the name of the make up. ClearWay. She looked over it again and again until she could close her eyes and see the shapes perfectly in her mind.
When they got to America, the beatings only got worse. Still, they learned to cover up and to slip a tub of ClearWay into their mother's shopping cart when they saw it at stores, only to slip it out of grocery bags in the car.
Sometimes their beatings were equal. Sometimes Gunther got it worse. But somehow, the big (by twenty minutes) brother always made sure Tinka never received more punches, hits, or kicks than he did.
When they were nine, they had just gotten their nightly beating and they were feeling the harmless-yet-painful aftersting of the ClearWay on the fresh wounds behind the garage when Gunther took Tinka's hands and said, "Let's escape."
Being nine, they took the whim. They slipped food in their pockets and ran off into the night.
They got seven blocks before a police car stopped them. The poor policeman thought he was helping them by bringing them back home. But when they got there, they simply received the worst beatings of their lives.
Tinka blacked out for a few minutes. When she came to, Gunther was on the floor in a pool of blood. On the garage floor. They were in the garage.
The whole time they were there, Tinka alternated between hugging Gunther and praying for him. Finally, he woke up. They had been there for three days. They stole back into the house, and the next day everything returned to normal.
They lived there. Until they were thirteen. The beatings only got worse and worse as they grew up. Sometimes they were so bad that one twin couldn't go to school (three times it had been Gunther, once it had been Tinka) and they made an excuse to be without their different-sex double. They became dependent of each other. They did everything together. They dressed alike. They seemed, to the outside world, to grow mean, but they were simply scared. Scared that someone would find out. Scared that they would stare like they did on the plane. Scared that they would just send them home like the policeman. Scared.
The night before, it had been especially bad. The beating had lasted until 5 AM. Neither twin could sleep afterward. It was time to get ready for school.
Tinka stared at herself in the mirror. Gunther walked into the bathroom.
"We can't keep hiding."