For Lady Strallan
#95 Mask
For as long as she could remember, Edith Crawley had been fascinated by masks. She loved everything about them, and had amassed a large collection displayed on her bedroom wall. Kabuki, Mardi Gras, Tribal, you name it, Edith had it.
She only ever wore on though. Her own.
For as much as she loved masks, she hated the fact that she had to hide behind one.
No one ever knew she was hiding, refusing to show her true self, lest she be spurned once more.
When she was younger, Edith had not yet formed her mask. She used to smile and mean it. But over the years, she had formed that false face piece by piece. Every put down by Mary, every 'that's nice, dear' from her mother, every disappointed look from her father had contributed to the patchwork of porcelain.
She was convinced that she would never take it off. It would be her second skin,one she would never shed.
But that was before she met Anthony.
Anthony could see her, really see her.
When he kissed her for the first time, she felt that mask finally fall off, cracking and breaking into a million tiny, insignificant pieces.
And she was happy, finally Edith was Edith.
