Eiravyne's voice continued to tremble, each word dragging her deeper into the abyss of her own self-loathing.
"I thought... it was because... I was not beautiful," she stammered, tears streaming down her face. "I thought my body was... flawed. Too plain, too weak. I hated the way I looked... every inch of my skin felt... wrong."
She buried her face deeper in her palms. "I-I tried s-so hard to be…be …," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "To be what they wanted….."
Her hands moved to grip the fabric of her dress, her fingers trembling trying to cover her back desperately not wanting Ilkar to see anything.
"I-I believed," she whispered, her voice breaking. "That I was un-unlovable because of my… b-body. I thought if only I could be p-prettier, more graceful, more like them... maybe then..."
Her sobs grew louder, her shoulders shaking with the force of her grief. "I-I hated myself," she admitted, her words barely audible.
