Painted Mask
by Destanee Moral
The neon orange paint felt cold against my fingertips, as I slowly dipped them in the can. I made a small whirlpool for a couple seconds, before taking my fingers out, to place them against my cheek. I tried not to take note of everyone watching me, as I stared into the small broken shard of a mirror.
I could hear people around me whispering, and it took all my strength not to stop and run away. I needed to do this. I had to do this. Taking a deep breath, my fingers glided against my face, the paint becoming slightly hard as it dried.
Trying to distract myself, I studied the broken piece of glass, giving me a piece of my reflection. Except, I didn’t recognize the person I was becoming. Stopping mid-stroke, I stared at the person before me.
My eyes were no longer the light green of a summer’s forest, but black, filled with nightmares of everyone who ever looked into them. My face was no longer pudgy and round, but thin from starvation my enemies once had. My hair no longer up in my signature bun, but let loose in a mess of tangles.