I looked in the mirror. My hair was black and shiny- it was perfect. My cinnamon colored skin was flawless and had just a little touch of makeup on it. The beautiful amber eyes were surrounded with long black eyelashes. The clothes were- of course- new and from Chanel. I wore a short – but not too short pink dress and silver stilettoes. The outfit was complete with my Prada handbag and bracelets in white gold, because silver is for peasants.

I looked perfect. But why does it feel so wrong? People always told me that I was beautiful, but when I looked in the mirror I only saw myself. Natalie Kabra. A fourteen year old girl.

Because of my beauty people only saw me as a pretty girl. They didn't like me- or maybe unliked me because I was funny or smart… or maybe evil. Some of the girls in school just wanted to hang out with me because boys looked at me or because I was rich. Maybe I should be thankful that I was popular? But I felt so faked sometimes. The girls I hang out with don't know I always carry a dartgun in my handbag or that under my nails are poison. They don't know how afraid I am. They don't know that my mom is in jail or that she shot me in my ankle. But I didn't want that either…