Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
"My name is Esme, sweetheart." She steps into the bathroom, tucking her wings behind her to avoid hitting them on the door frame. "How do you feel?"
How do I feel?
I turn back to the mirror and really look at myself. I look the same. Well, maybe just a little less tired looking. My eyes are still dull, dirt brown. My collar bones are prominent through my skin, and I'm still thin, almost too thin. My hair looks shinier, but still not super healthy.
I feel sad that I don't look as radiant as she does. I feel disappointed that even in death, I'm not good enough in my eyes. I feel resigned that I'll always be different (in a not good way).
"Fine, I guess," I tell her instead.
"It's a lot to take in initially. I know I struggled with it at first, but I didn't really have anyone to help me out. I'll explain everything to you, but first, I want to get you cleaned up and out of this apartment.