Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. All characters and events are a trademark of their creators and Nickelodeon.
My mask is beautiful, or so I'm told. Supposedly a dark green mask, with upturned edges, meant to cover only my eyes, the eyes that scare so many. Black and silver threads and beads loop through the edges, giving a pattern that makes it match my dress. The mask is beautiful. I should look beautiful, too.
But whatever I look like makes no difference. I stand here alone, cold, miserable. I stand here guarded by people who don't really care about me; the gold in their wallets is what they really protect. I stand here with another mask, one that covers up my true self, setting off an aura of confidence when inside I am truly not.
At midnight tonight, the masks will all be dropped. One by one, every façade will be broken, every lie will become truth.
Except me.
I will drop my mask, as my mother has instructed me to do so. When it falls, no one will notice. And if, by some miraculous chance, I am seen, it will make no difference. There will be a scream, a shout, a wail to hide from the sightless charity case. I will be dragged out by the guards surrounding me now, and the victim will receive money to keep quiet about me.
Yes, it has happened before. Countless times. Possibly even at my birth.
The skirt of my dress drags on the ground, accentuating my lacking height. No one can see me. No one can hear me. I feel my mind wandering, my lips parting for a mere moment to speak up, my self closing to keep everything inside.
I don't understand why I'm here. I can't talk to anyone, don't fit in, don't belong. This is another of my rare appearances in society, and it makes no difference to anyone. It is not understood that I am the Bei Fong heiress, the long-awaited child, the one my parents worked so hard to have. It is only understood that I am weak and helpless. That I'm a disgrace, unneeded, unwanted.
I'm launching myself in a self-pity tirade, but what can I do? For twelve years I've been locked away. For twelve years I've just been there. For twelve years I've never lived. There is nothing out there for me. I'm destined to live my whole life trapped in the confines of this house. I will never be known.
Still, it makes no difference to my parents.
They can always have another child. Perhaps it will be the son they need, the son that can take over the estate when my father dies, or maybe it will be the daughter they crave—the one who can see, the one who can become something.
She won't be me, though. She will never be me. Hopefully my parents will see that.
I can Earthbend like the best of them; I rule the tournaments they think so poorly of. I, in a certain sense, can see. I am Toph Bei Fong, the Blind Bandit! Tomorrow, I'll be winning Earth Rumble VI.
If they knew, would they be proud? I've far exceeded my teacher: become the greatest of Gaoling, the entire Earth Kingdom, probably even the world. But will my parents ever look at me as more than their pitiful daughter? The child that will never amount to anything?
They love me, yes, but sometimes I just don't feel like they do.
The clock chimes once, and I can hear the shuffling of the people around me. It clangs again, and I can hear my father clear his throat. Another ring and he is shouting that it was almost midnight. The fourth clink and he announces that everyone should prepare to remove their masks.
I move my hands to the mask on my own face, feel the cords and the beads making its design.
"No, Miss Toph, you could hurt yourself." More strikes from the clock.
And at the last ding of the clock, my mask is removed for me. There is cheering and chatter, and I brace myself for someone to notice my eyes and shriek.
No formal title, no wealth, nothing can make up for my disability. I would do anything to regain it, anything to stop the constant shelter, anything to make my parents happy, to gain their respect.
And alas, I find it impossible. As there is no thing in the world that can heal blindness, there is no thing in the world that can heal me.
