The Power Of Makeup

Rosette Young POV'

Josef took me to a room where he handed me clothes to change into. After thirty minutes, I slipped out in an oversized t-shirt and brown baggy jeans. I looked at Josef questioningly, too scared to ask him a thing. I was traumatized by the whole incident, and wanted to isolate myself from the outside world. Staring back at my reflection in the body-length mirror, I saw a meek and weak figure that seemed to invite bullies.

As I gazed at my reflection, the soft fabric of the clothes felt gentle against my skin, a stark contrast to the harsh reality I had just faced. My eyes traced the faint bruises ony skin, the puffy red eyes from crying. The sound of Josef's voice, laced with guilt and apology, barely registered as he crouched behind me, his words lost in the turmoil of my mind. "Sorry," he whispered, but my gaze remained fixed on my reflection, my expression a mask of cold indifference.

The scent of fresh air wafted through the room, a mixture of perfume and disinfectant, but it did little to calm my racing thoughts. I felt numb, my emotions dulled by the trauma I had endured. The pain still lingered, a throbbing ache that seemed to seep into every pore of her being.

As I turned to leave, the soft carpet beneath my feet muffled my footsteps, a stark contrast to the cacophony of emotions that threatened to consume me. I walked out of the room without looking back, the sound of Josef's apology fading into the distance. The world outside seemed to move in slow motion, the colors muted, the sounds muffled. I felt like I was walking through a dream, a nightmare from which I couldn't wake up.

With each step, I felt myself transforming, my naivety shedding like a skin I had outgrown. The true world had revealed itself to me, and I was determined to face it head-on, without tears or pleas for mercy. My heart was a heavy, aching stone, weighed down by hatred and resentment. I vowed to myself that I would never forget the pain I had endured, and that I would never forgive those who had inflicted it upon me. The triple eight would forever be etched in me memory, a reminder of the trauma I had survived.

As I disappeared into the shadows, my expression remained frozen, a mask of ice and stone. I was no longer going to be the meek, weak girl I had once been. I was force to be reckoned with, a storm brewing on the horizon, waiting to unleash its fury upon the world.

Today would mark the end of the day I shed any tears for anyone. Soon or later the triple eight would meet the real me, the girl who shouldn't be reckoned with.