"How do I look?"
"Like death!" Heather replied without missing a beat.
I stared at myself in the mirror and realized my face looked foreign even to myself. No amount of makeup could hide how I truly felt underneath. Heather had applied kohl around my eyes to give the illusion of life but that did nothing to hide the hollowness within them. My lips were painted deep crimson, matching the color of the blood that soak the bandage beneath the dress I wore. My hair which was my source of pride, lay limp and lifeless despite the meticulous curls.
The dress I wore was a crimson one that flowed all the way down to my waist. I chose it because it would blend perfectly well with my blood should the stitches reopen. My dress combined functionality with sophisticated form while remaining deceptive to the eye.
