Growing up, she never doubted herself. Choices came and went without hesitation and decisions came naturally to her. When that all changed was uncertain, but what was certain was that the strong and confident girl had since been buried under a heavy pile of desperate attempts to grasp on to any control she hadn’t lost already.
No longer did she feel as though the choices she’d been making were the right ones. Or rather, the belief that destiny would put her back on the right track should she go awry had disappeared. That hope was gone. Diminished by those who had made her feel as though she was nothing, only worth the five minutes of her time she’d give them and nothing more.
How she longed to take over her life once again. To have the kind of control she’d once took for granted. You see, Charlotte was what every adult had told her she would be since she was nine. She was beautiful. An all-American, midwestern girl from a town that no one had ever heard of, nor left once they had. Raised in a typical loving household full of laughter and joy. Memories flashed blush pink walls, white lace curtains and a mirror which sat atop a white wooden desk. She hadn’t entered her childhood room in years, though now she sat on the plush stool next to the desk, staring into the old mirror, a stranger staring back.
The mirror was rather large, oval and vintage. Now that she thought about it, too huge for a young girl to look into every day. Its outer rim was wrapped in beautiful, intricately welded designs. Ornate flowers that turned into never-ending spirals, turning back into flowers once again. She picked up the brush that sat next to the mirror. No dust had gathered on top of the bristles, which was a sign that her mother frequented her room often. Charlotte began to brush through her long, almond colored hair. Smooth and untangled, the mid-day sun glistened off the long, thin strands.
What he had said to her repeated over and over again in her mind. What do you think this is? She must have thought it a thousand times by now, his voice forever ingrained into her subconscious. She could hear him even without drawing up the memory of that night. His breath warm against her cheek. Towering over her, looking down on her. What do you think this is? As if he could only value what her body could give to him in that moment.
Though the anger welled up inside of her, she did nothing but surrender to his wants.
And she hated herself for it.