“Mascara?” The
unexpected voice startled her causing her to drop the tube into the sink. “No
mascara, Daphne. I’ve told you that before. You are a natural beauty. Hold on
to your innocent looks for as long as you can, Sweetheart.That’s how Daddy
loves you.”
“But I’m not innocent, am I, Sweetheart?” She didn't anticipate the
slap that knocked her head into the medicine cabinet mirror. Her face caught
the corner of it causing a small bloody gash.
“Great! Now see what you made me
do? You can’t come to the party looking like that! You’ll have to stay here and
stay in your room. I’ll go alone.” Her father slammed the bathroom door as he
left.
Daphne gazed into the mirror fascinated
by the power of a little trail of blood. She wondered if perhaps she had just
discovered her best weapon of defense. She carefully washed her face with soap
and water before applying a cotton ball of alcohol to the cut and applying a
bandage. The stinging was mild and didn't last very long. She could live with
it.
Daphne turned out the light and
walked over to her bed and got under the covers. With visions of cuts and
dragons floating around in her head, she certainly had a lot to dream about.
She closed her eyes and smiled as she imagined having a scar above her left
eyebrow. For starters.
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