Evie-centric drabble. Because I need to write something other than Sea Three.
They all said she was perfect. Pale skin, beautiful makeup, shining brown eyes and perfect pearly smile. Skinny and elegant, well-poised and likeable. Quiet and supportive. They figured she had it best out of all of them.
Yet no one could figure out why she would never change in the gym locker rooms with the other girls, or why she refused to wear any of her customized swimsuits to the beach with her friends on hot days. Making sure you never saw her in shortsleeves or in crop tops, anything too revealing.
Looking in the mirror, seeing the marks from corsets and chest cages covering her front, her arms covered in scars and burns from her mother's hot wax on her skin, or from products she had been allergic to that she had been forced to wear anyways. She alone knowing that she'd had to endure terrible plastic surgery, just to look perfect. She was always told that a pretty face would make it better, it'd make her feel perfect.
It never did.