Tabitha woke up and looked in the mirror. She looked just like what she was, worn out and thrown away. She'd been hurt and abused, neglected and denied. She tried smiling. It looked like a grimace.

She felt so alone and scared. She creeped over to her closet and looked in vain for something that would cover her up. Tabitha didn't want to be stared at. She didn't want to have anyone notice her. If nobody noticed her, nobody would hurt her.

Finally, she found an outfit that would offer some slight amount of modesty, if she pulled the pants up high and carefully arranged her shirt. Why had she decided to live in a houseful of wild teenage boys anyway? Boys terrified her! She just wanted to be cared for, but she knew that wasn't going to happen.

Now for her hair. With slow, stumbling stride, Tabitha walked over to get her hairbrush. Even here, alone in her own room, she was terrified. Tabitha carefully chose a sedate style, once again trying not do draw attention. Why had she cut her hair that short anyway? When it was long she could use it to hide herself in.

Now for the make-up. Tabitha eyed the garish colors in distaste. If she didn't know going bare-faced would get her attention she didn't want, she would have tried that. But she had to put on a little so nobody would single her out as a target. Tabitha went over to her vanity to put on her make-up.

There. She was done. Or was she? Maybe just a little more...a little more...a little more...ok, a lot more. She started playing with her colors, making her face into a bright, shining masterpiece to tell everyone who she was. Finally she was done. Bright colors peered back at her.

Ugh. What had she done to her hair? Instantly she reached for her mousse to give herself a flamboyant style, just like her. Then she pushed her pants further down, rearranged her shirt to show more, and walked out with the easy grace of a panther on the prowl. This Tabby-cat was ready to party.