The Beauty Of It

8| Mirror

Stretch marks.

Cellulite.

Fat around my stomach.

My thighs touch each other.

I look at the girl standing in front of me. That's not me. I so desperately want to believe that it's not.

But it is. Dull blue eyes stare back at me through the mirror, and I feel like sobbing all over again. My eyes are puffy and I have mascara running down my cheeks. I don't like the girl in the mirror. The girl in the mirror isn't skinny. She's not confident. She's not pretty.

I don't like the girl in the mirror.

I'm not her

But as the minutes go by, I am forced to acknowledge that I am in fact, the girl in the mirror.

I look back at the dress hanging against my closet. I ordered it online a couple of weeks ago. It's a beautiful summer dress that stops a couple of inches above my knees. It looked amazing on the model and I just had to buy it. I probably should have known it wouldn't have fit me the same as did her petite frame.

"Oh get over yourself." I scold the girl in the mirror. I head into the bathroom to clean the tears and mascara off of my face, while I refuse to look up into the mirror. I've tortured myself enough today.

Note to self: never sleep with makeup on ever again. Especially if you cry almost on a daily basis.

It's been a week since my last therapy session. I can't really tell if it's been helping yet. I still get nightmares. I've tried to avoid talking about the subject but I can tell my parents are worried. I know they're only trying to help and be supportive but their pitiful looks and tiptoeing around me is going to drive me insane. It's constantly reminding me of everything I'm trying so hard to forget.

After splashing some cold water onto my face, I step into my closet to find something to wear that is suitable for the miserable weather we've been experiencing these last couple of days. I've really been trying to be positive about this move but this place is making it incredibly difficult.

Since it's Saturday and I have zero plans, I decide on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt, along with some fuzzy socks. I grab my phone and head downstairs to the kitchen to make me some coffee.

Just as I step into the kitchen, I hear the front door open, followed by my brother's loud laughter. I turn around when I hear him coming closer and finally realize he's not alone.

I freeze when I see his blue eyes staring back at mine. Instead of the harsh scowl that is usually present on Luke's face, he gives me a small smile and might I just say that I was having a hard time hiding my shock.

I wasn't aware that he was capable of making any other facial expressions.

"Hey kiddo." Ezra comes over when he sees me standing by the coffee machine. "Watcha doin?" He asks as I'm reaching into the cupboard to grab a mug. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He sticks his tongue out at me while he slides onto one of the stools by the island. Luke joins him a moment later. "Always so mean to me." He touches a hand to his chest while pouting at me.

"You'll get over it." I say with my back to him. I finish making my coffee and turn around to face the two boys. "What are your plans for today?" I ask my brother. He spins around on the stool a few times, humming to himself, like he's thinking really hard about my question.

"Nothing much, just hanging out. A couple other guys are coming over later to watch the game." He says when he's done contemplating that very difficult question, after obviously knowing what his plans were if he invited people over. I shake my head at him with a smile.

What a strange human being.

Luke still hasn't said a word the entire time. He's just silently listening to Ezra going on about whatever nonsense he's been thinking. I leave the two of them to go finish some homework in my room.

An hour later I hear the doorbell ring. As soon as the door opens the house is filled with loud voices and laugther that can only belong to a group of guys getting ready to watch the game.

About thirty minutes later the game starts. The only reason I know this is because of the loud cheers and screams coming from downstairs. I decide to take a break and get something to eat. I head to the kitchen and open the fridge. After deciding that absolutely nothing looks good enough to eat, I decide to check the pantry.

I'm standing on my toes to try and see what snacks are hidden on the top shelf, when I hear someone enter the kitchen. I turn around to discover that that 'someone' was Luke.

"Hey" He says without looking at me. He reaches into a cupboard to grab a glass, and fills it with water from the fridge. "Hi." Why am I so fucking awkward? He takes a sip of water while looking at me over the edge of the glass. I can see him smirking.

I go back to the fridge to see if my standards have lowered in the past five minutes, while simultaneously trying to hide the redness in my cheeks. I find nothing. When I turn around he is still looking at me. Almost studying me.

What is probably only a few seconds feels like hours. For some incredibly strange reason, I can't seem to look away.

He finally breaks the intense eye contact when one of the boys from the living room calls his name. Without another word he turns and leaves, and I finally release the breath I didn't know I was holding.

And suddenly I'm a little light headed. And I don't know if it's from the lack of oxygen, or Luke's blue eyes staring straight into my soul.