Her disease
Every morning she wraps her body in gauze, like a leper she is covered. Around her chest, one, two, three, around and around in front of the mirror. The mirror is deadly. The mirror is Death, and so she dares not look away. Twice around her arms, coveringthe pearl scars, veins criss-crossing her arms.
Her veins are the same colour as her eyes. She smiles when ever she remembers this; her quiet little smile, in case someone notices it.
She wraps herself in enough clothing to weather a snowstorm. Her back sweats all the time, but she doesn't mind. She kind of likes it. She is becoming strong; she is becoming the person they all want her to be. The person she wakes up every morning expecting to be when she throws back her covers the way a butterfly emerges through the chrysalis.
When she looks into her eyes she knows she is not a butterfly underneath it all. She is moth, returning every night to her cocoon because she can't let it go.
She is what she dresses herself to be. She is a leper, a diseased individual no one wants to touch, something disgusting to look at. And yet... time passes and still she doesn't look away.
When he calls from outside her door she breaks away from the mirror to join him. She turns her back on death.
Ebony: Yar, thanks for the reviews to you too!