Mirror, Mirror

Shay was surprising really good at makeup, which made me want to ask him why that was so. He'd proudly turned me to face the mirror that held my reflection. My eyes widened at the glass. I honestly couldn't contain the happiness that erupted in my chest seeing how I looked right then. My eyes were rimmed with dark eyeliner and smudged to look smoky. My lips were a pouty dark red that complimented my complexion. My eyes shimmered with a subtle glitter upon my eyelids. My face was clear of any trace of bruising, scars or acne. Shay had made me beautiful, but in doing so, he'd covered up who I was. No need to worry about who I was though, right? People payed for my body, not my personality. "Ta-da!" Shay said, his hands outstretched and his fingers doing that cheerleader spirit fingers thing. I laughed at him and leaned close to the mirror. I couldn't take my eyes off of myself. "You like?" "I love it. How did you- Oh my God. Just, wow." My words were clumsy children on ice, sentences incomplete and lacking in proper structure. "I knew it." He laughed. "You honestly don't wear enough makeup." I glanced back over at him. I preferred to wear just eyeliner and mascara. I didn't need anymore than that, in my opinion. "No one wants to see bruises left by another client. So foundation and concealer are your two best friends now, got me?" "But, I-" I went to argue. I felt that I'd looked decent enough before, I didn't need to look drop-dead gorgeous, did I? "Nope. Repeat after me; foundation and concealers are my two best friends." He said even slower, a finger raised to silence me. I rolled my eyes at him. "Foundation and concealers are my two best friends." I replied flatly. He grinned. "Good girl. I have to go, I have a client coming soon." He blew me a kiss and skipped out of the room. I turned back to face the mirror. I looked very pretty, no doubt about that. But I felt silly, covered up and doll-like. I felt like plastic, as if I wasn't real. With a simple scrub the true me would burst forth and one might be disappointed. My face was a lie, a sickening and thick-layered lie. It had started with a simple scrap of fingernails across my cheek. The powder clumping underneath my fingernails. Tears welled into my eyes. I was a lie. And ugly lie. Shay had covered the lie. I heard someone walk into the room and I sniffled and choked back my tears. No need to have a breakdown in front of someone. "Hey, Holly, have you seen Ashley?" Jake asked me from the doorway. I turned to him and he started laughing. "What the fuck happened to your face?" He asked between fits of laughter. "I thought I looked good." I mumbled. "And no, I haven't seen Ashley." "You look like a fucking clown. I don't even get makeup. If you're ugly, you're fucking ugly." Jake threw his head back in laughter. "Whatever, I'm in a good mood now. See you later, Powder Slut." He sauntered away, his steps oozing with confidence I severely lacked. I turned back to the mirror. I was a powered slut. Aggressively and angrily, I began scrubbing at my face. My skin being rubbed and scrapped raw. Seeing patches of my skin turn pink and red with irritation didn't stop me from viciously scrubbing at the powder upon my face. Black mascara tears fell from my eyes in parallel lines. I scrubbed at my nose so hard it started to bleed, the red stream flowing into my lips. It tasted like copper. The blood dripped a few splatters onto the vanity in front of me, but my face wasn't clean enough. I wasn't clean enough. I was dirty. Filthy. Disgusting. A disgrace. Why was I doing this to myself? Blotchy and pathetic. The only two words came to mind as I took in my new reflection. So fast had I liked what I'd seen, and now I was repulsed. I stood from the vanity, but the girl in the mirror kept her dead, lifeless gaze on mine. She didn't look like me. But how would I know what I looked like without mirrors? Mirrors didn't lie, and if they did, then we were all doomed for hell. Looks are the things we associate ourselves with. Even when we say appearance doesn't matter, it does. To an extent. We talk to people who have a look, or remind us of ourselves. How self-centered and conceited? We empathize with people who go through what we have. We care about people who care about us in return, because nothing is free. Trades are fair, barter of equal value or the deal is off. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I threw a hairbrush at the girl in the mirror and watched as the glass shattered into tiny pieces of a larger image. The tiny glass shards reminded me of diamonds. A diamond turned into thousands that lay upon the floor. My breathing was ragged as my gaze stayed glued upon the broken mirror that lay on the floor now. Scattered the girl that had stared at me was. Her eyes no longer followed me. I was alone now, only to be haunted by her memory.

___

"Hey there, you sexy piece of ass!" Tyler called to me. I was going to go back into my room and read, but he'd stopped me, his words a bit degrading and somewhat welcomed. I was to the point that I was accepting cat-calls as greetings. "You could just call me by my name, you know." I told him as I went over to me. He shrugged. "How's Hottie Holly sound?" He joked. I sighed and he started to laugh. "Better, but not by much." I mumbled, but I don't think he heard, or cared to have heard my words. "So, Jake told me that you let Shay give you a makeover." Tyler nudged my shoulder. I let out a nervous chuckle and nodded. "How'd that go?" "Eh, I really don't want to talk about it." I told him. I was more referring to Jake's cold and self-depreciating words, and my minutes of insanity afterwards, than the makeover itself. "That bad huh?" Tyler asked me, a frown coasting his features. I shrugged. "Depends upon your own take on it." I said quietly. There was really no need to go into details, mainly because even if I did, Tyler still wouldn't quite get it. He was a very positive guy, and probably the only one who lived in the house that was living his dream. Tyler was always happy and open, but I don't think he understood the fact that if most of us had the choice to leave and actually make something of ourselves, that we'd all leave. If given that opportunity, I don't even know what I'd do anymore. My dreams of becoming a teacher long having dissipated into old, hopeful thinking. "How have you been, Holly? You don't come and hang out with everyone anymore." He asked me, his voice a tad quieter and edging at sympathetic. "I'm alive and not screwing up as much." I told him honestly. Alive is an odd term, because it's really all up to perception on what it truly means, and can differ from person to person. I was breathing, so I was alive and functioning, but mentally, was I alive? "That's good and all, but you're really fun to talk to. You should hang out with us tonight. We're all going to watch Mean Girls and then Spiderman." He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Don't be like Oli." I was barely paying any attention to anything that Tyler had been saying, because how was I any fun? I merely just laughed along to jokes and nodded in agreement. But his words pulled me back to reality. "What does that mean?" I asked him, my tone a tad harsher than I'd intended for them to be. He threw his hands up in a offensive manner. "Hey, chill. I'm just saying, you're being anti-social like him. All he ever does is stay cooped up in the library." "Do you bother to learn why he stay cooped up in there then?" "I would, but every time I've tried talking to him he just pushes me away." "Have you given him a reason to?" "No, no one has. When he first came here, he was kinda chill, but he just didn't really fit in with anyone. Eventually he stopped trying and just drifted away from everyone." He sighed. "And you're starting to become the same way. I don't mean it in a bad way, I just wish I could know both of you better is all." "Whatever." I mumbled, hoping to rid both of us of the conversation. He didn't say anything instead just leaving down the hall, no goodbye passing his lips. I took a deep breath and went to the comforts of my bed again. I opened my book and began reading. The words were an escape from the world I knew. It was a sad world, one I'd brought upon myself. But everyone's entitled to complain. It's what I do best.

The moon was high in the sky, somewhere. It's light being hidden behind dusty night clouds. The sound of crickets was ominous and eerie, what with the location of the whorehouse. I was wide awake and everyone asleep. I was completely wired, and had the urge to talk. I needed noise. I didn't like the silence that came with nighttime. During the day when I read it wasn't silent. Sex noises and arguments would always keep my mind on the edge of reality while the rest of my mind wandered the forests of evil with the captain in The Heart of Darkness. Letting my knees fall from the spot on my chest where they'd previously been pulled to, I slung my covers off of me. I sighed and left the room. I'd stayed upstairs while everyone else was downstairs, and even Madame Gigi had joined the movie night. I hadn't wanted to join because I'd always felt hated when I hung out with everyone. Passing conversations and confrontations were fine. But being surrounded by everyone didn't sit well on my stomach. Though I knew not everyone hated me, my mind refused to let me truly believe that. I crept down the hallway, not really sure what to do with myself. I figured maybe I could watch television until I was tired. I attempted to descend the stairs quietly and slowly in the dark; a dangerous task. When I ran into someone. "What the living fuck?" The person hissed, their voice heavily coated by an English accent. Oli. I retracted a little. "Sorry." I whispered, hoping I hadn't hurt him or anything. I'd feel bad if I would have almost knocked him down the stairs. Oh, the noise that would've made. How grumpy everyone would've been. And it'd be a tad hard to call for an ambulance to a whorehouse. Hell, the air stunk of sexy and hopelessness. The place would be crawling with police in hours time. "Holly? What're you doin' up?" Oli asked me, reaching out and touching my shoulder. "I couldn't sleep, so I was going to watch TV. What're you doing up?" I countered. "I take a shower early in the morning so I don't have to shower with the others." He told me. I knew this already, the memory of his perfectly inked skin seeping into my mind. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks and was thankful that it was dark enough so that he couldn't see. "Why don't you shower with the others?" I was genuinely curious as to why. I knew why I didn't shower with them, but why didn't he? "Ha, I could ask you why you can't sleep, but I'm not bein' nosy." He replied going to walk past me. "Keep the TV down, okay?" I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see me. "Yeah, okay." I mumbled and continued down the stairs and into the living room. The TV illuminated the room with it's false lights. The commercials were odd and boring. Vacuum cleaners, household wipes, diapers, and then there were the constant stream of food commercials. It was munchies hour. The time really late at night where if you were up, you were hungry. That hunger would usually be suppressed until morning, but due to you're being awake, you feel it. Two o'clock in the morning was the worst time for me to be up. But I was. My mind drifted to places it really shouldn't and I honestly want to just talk to someone. But everyone was asleep and wouldn't care. I felt myself yawn as another of episode of Friends came on, the foolish actors dancing in a fountain. The couch shifted as the weight of another person settled onto the other side of the couch. I glanced over to find Oli sitting there like it was perfectly fine. It was odd, seeing him outside of the library, and to see the colored skin of his arms close to me. The people on the screen in front of us were agreeing to enter the lottery together as a group of friends. Oli scoffed at them. "That won't work. Greed is far more powerful than friendship." He said under his breath. I looked over at him. "I don't think you're right." I whispered back. He raised an eyebrow at me. "They've all known each other for years, money can't come between that kind of bond." "You're very naive. If I offered you three best friends or three million dollars, which would you take?" He asked me. I thought for a second. Loyal friends were a rarity in it's own. But, then money could be made in various ways. "I dunno. Maybe the friends." I told him quietly. He smirked and shook his head. "You're a fucking liar, Holly." He ran a hand through his hair. "But, I'll bite. Why would you take the friends over the money?" "Because, I-I'd rather be happy and poor than rich and miserable." "And are you then? You're poor now, are you happy?" "No, but are you?" "I've accepted a long time ago that happiness is merely a man-made idea." "That doesn't answer my question." "I don't believe in happiness. So, no, I'm not happy." On the screen the friends were fighting over hidden lottery tickets. Oli chuckled. "Greed, it'll be humanity's biggest downfall." "You're seriously pessimistic." I said shaking my head. He shrugged, not even phased by my words in the slightest. "I think I'm more realistic, but eh, tomato, tamato." He turned back to the screen in front of us. "What'd you really want to be? I mean, I doubt you wanted to grow up and be a prostitute." "A teacher." I admitted. "What about you? What'd you want to be?" "A musician." He laughed a little. "Probably should've listened to my mom though." "What about?" "The whole eating my vegetables shit. Maybe if I'd have eaten them I would have grown up with some common fucking sense." I started to laugh at his sarcastic response. "Seriously, what should you have listened to her about?" "Dreams. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, your dreams aren't going to come true. It's a sad truth, but it's life. You kinda have to be prepared to jump ship at some point." "But, if you're going to go for your dreams, why not give it your all?" "Because it's pointless. You give it your all, and you still fail. Will you continue, willingly, giving it your all if you're not going anywhere?" "Yeah. Rather go in a blaze of failure from trying than to burn in a monotonous flame from settling." "You're seriously naive as fuck."