Shut Up, Padfoot!

82

Neatly, I braided my hair over my shoulder.

Like gold spun from straw, I watched my curls tuck under one another. Swallowing, I reached for the ribbon on my nightstand. The silk was slippery on my fingers as I tied it to the end.

The faint noise from the turntable filled my ears. My eyes flickered to it in the reflection. I surveyed the spinning of the record, no music playing anymore. Blue Magic's record cover sat on the duvet. The light danced along the plastic as the ceiling fan disturbed the candle.

Staring back at my mirrored image, I let a breath out quietly. My baby hairs framed my face, curling outward from the warm weather of earlier morning.

Tracks of mascara trailed down my cheeks. As I blinked, my wet lashes clung in clumps. Slightly, I tilted the corners of my mouth upward with smeared lip stain.

"So pretty," I whispered.

With perfect skin and bright hair. Beautiful. She's so beautiful. An imprint of lips in dried lipstick on the reflective surface slightly impaired my view.

I curled my fingers around my gingham green dress. A pretty dress for a pretty girl. Turning barely to show my side profile, I propped my chin atop my shoulder. I flit my eyes up and down my body.

Fanning the skirt of the dress out, I turned forward again and leaned closer. My other braid fell from my back, now hitting my collarbone as it swayed.

I bared my teeth, checking how straight they are. I ran a tongue over the top row slowly. Sighing, I fell back on the heels of my feet.

"Too bad I don't actually look like this," I murmured.

A little huff to myself and a small push of magic allowed the candle flame to go out.

My room enveloped in darkness. The light from the hallway paved its way inside. Enough to continue examining my appearance.

Letting go of my metamorphmagus, I shifted back into my normal self. As a blonde, the color naturally fades as I get older. My roots grow darker. The bright color I always recieved compliments on retreated closer to my split ends.

The glow from my skin waned and the vibrancy of my cheeks disappeared. The model body I concocted dissolved. This time, the dress hug loosely over my body. My ribcage poked out under the fabric.

Simply a skeleton with a dull thin cover.

I ran a hand under my eye, the black of my makeup shifted sideways. Palms damp and the emptiness of the mundane shell I inhabit stung my stomach.

I just want to go outside.

The backyard isn't enough to satisfy. On days I can drag myself out of bed, I just stare. The same trees lose leaves before they can blossom flowers and accompany the scenery of a dying mountain. I've seen it so often to paint it with my eyes closed.

What I would give to take a run to the grocery store. To glide down aisles of produce and consumption of growing waste. Just pushing a squeaky cart with my handbag hanging from my elbow.

Even taking a walk to the nearest home from ours. Gazing at the family silhouettes in their windows and budding plants in their front yard.

I don't think I have the capability of carrying a decent conversation anymore. Pandora isn't around much either. I get glimpses of her platinum strands on the way out every morning. Her heel escaping from the doorway when she returns.

The days she does spend at home, she'd run a dismissive hand through my hair and read the newspaper. I wished she would stay longer than a few hours in my vicinity.

I feel I'm behind the fashion trends. My disappointment settled deeper when I thought that maybe this dress is two seasons old. I used to cling to my obsession of staying on top of the trends. After the drama of the decade, I let myself go. Now that there's nothing to do here, I can't even access that.

Just existing.

"Should I just become someone new?" I wondered aloud.

I could change everything about me, including my name. Probably try to let go of my current persona and pretend I won't die in a year... or a few months. No more Crystallia Phoenix. I'd pick a common name like Jenny.

"Jenny. J-E-N-N-Y. Or maybe J-E-N-N-I-E? No, I think N-Y is more convincing," I continued.

Need to pick a face that suits the name. Or do I even want to use this name? Perhaps Mary? I'm not sure.

My door creaked as it turned on its hinges. Pandora shuffled under the door frame. She squinted as she tried to make out my figure. I turned to her, posing with the dress.

"Do you like it? I bought it a couple years ago. I'm thinking up new names and putting together a face," I said.

She walked passed me, reaching for the matchbox next to the candle. She struck one match on the side of the cardboard box and a flame erupted. She touched it upon the wick, lighting the room up again. She repeated the action on the other ones.

She swiped the album cover from the bed and plucked the record from the turntable. She replaced it and set it down.

"Take a seat, Cry," she softly told.

"Hm? Oh, okay. Something wrong?" I questioned as I settled on the edge of the mattress.

She left the room, taking me by surprise. I played with the hem of the dress. I think she's coming back.

Proving me right, she did come back. Droplets of water stuck to her wrists and hands. A towel clutched between her fingers.

Her shorts rode up her thigh as she took the area next to me. Pandora's dark circles were prominent now that she faced me. The back of her head had tangled strands, looking like she just awoke from her nap. Or was just laying in bed.

She took my chin in her hand and turned me straight ahead. I furrowed my brows, watching her bring the towel to my face.

The coldness of the material made me grimace. She ran it along my cheek gently. My jaw clenched when I realized what she was doing. I fisted my dress as my throat constricted.

Patiently, she cleaned off the lip product. My vision blurred when I tried to look at her. She's so effortlessly stunning. No makeup on, poreless skin, smooth lips. While she looks tired, she is breathtaking. Jealousy made the hairs on my arm stand up.

She began on the eye makeup and I fully closed my eyes. I felt her rub the dark color away.

This is getting too hard for me.

-lana