She stared into the mirror and saw a mask.
The mask was perfect.
The mask wore a confident smile.
The mask was the image of a person with pride and power.
The mask was, without weakness, at the top of its class, untouchable.
The mask was in control; it walked over its opponents and broke through any obstacle.
The mask was popular; anyone would be lucky to associate with it.
The mask had a large and loving family.
The mask was rich and lived in luxury.
The mask was free; it never took no for an answer and claimed any desire.
But in the end, that was all it was, just a mask.
No such person ever existed.
All that lay behind the mask was a little girl.
The little girl was flawed.
The little girl wore a pained smile.
The little girl could not be proud of herself and was powerless.
The little girl was weak, at the bottom of the food chain, vulnerable.
The little girl had no control; her master walked over her and broke through her defenses.
The little girl was alone, friendless, and lonely.
The little girl was unloved by her parents, abandoned by her sister.
The little girl had not a penny of her own and was trapped in a lavish prison masquerading as a home.
The girl was defenseless and weak, unable to stand up and oppose her captor.
So instead, she wore the mask and lived a lie.
The lie of perfection.
The lie of confidence.
The lie of pride.
The lie of power.
The lie of strength.
The lie of control.
The lie of friendship.
The lie of family.
The lie of luxury
The lie of freedom.
Weiss's fist shattered the mirror and with it, the mask and the lie.
"No more masks."