𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

s ɪ x

A/N: I HAVE 5+ THOUSAND VIEWS OMG STOP, THANK YOU SO MUCH

DEVI BHATT

As I stare at the person in front of me, I think if the younger version of her would be proud of her choices. Youth made naivete something impossible to spot. But youth also saved her from the truth.

She was concealed in a sparkling little palace she thought has mystical dragons guarding. In reality, no-one was guarding her, but instead there was a monster at each window waiting for an unsuspecting, naïve girl to come and look out the window. To look out the window and feed her undying curiosity.

And once she did, the windows weren't the only thing crumbling to the ground.

You see, monsters come in all shapes and forms. They can in the form of a boy just a little older than you who seems to be absolutely smitten with you. Or they can come in the form of yourself.

The worst monster for you to ever face, is the one you can't touch with your hands, the one that's all in your head. The little girl I see in the past met this monster too soon. Too quick.

People don't believe what they can't see. This is where the girl in front of me learnt that love knows bounds. And the bounds are terribly small. The monster in your head is hard to turn into a friend. And no-one understood that. But what they understood, is that she was unhappy.

Some people believe in the devil, she believed in angels. However, no angel ever came to her rescue. It was just herself.

What a terrible, terrible thing to happen right?

Turning my head in the vanity mirror, I touch my cheek, assessing the extensive amount of glitter and kohl Sasha has decorated my face with.

White glitter to whitewash me, I think.

Glitter covers the top of my cheekbones, my eyelids, and the tip of my nose. There's also a gem to accessorise my lower lash line. To pair with it, is a dark red lip and winged eyeliner that screams feline.

"So it's a ball?" I ask nervously.

"Stop moving your hand, you're making me get the nail polish all over your cuticle," Sasha doesn't lift her head when she talks. She's really focused and has my hand right by her face.

I squint my eyes to see what she's painting on my nails.

"Is there a nail style called a Russian tip?" she raises her head slowly revealing her amused face.

"No malyshka," she continues to do her work.

"What does 'malyshka' mean?" I ask.

"It means baby. You're being rebirthed into the life of crime, and no-one is rebirthed as an adult," Sasha's green eyes flick up to mine. "And yes, for the fourth time it's a ball in honour of Grisha's mother-"

"Because it's her birthday, yes I understand that but why a ball?" I'm baffled.

"I don't know Devi, why don't you ask her that?" Sasha exasperates then sits up and claps her hands. "There, done. Do you like it?" she looks at me with hopeful eyes.

When I look at my nails, I see dark emerald polish with a wobbly white French tip. "It's amazing," I grin at her and she grins back.

"Now wait here, whilst I bring your dress," she says before slipping out of the room.

Blowing lightly on my nails, I patiently shout at it to dry quick. From the green on my nails, I'm guessing the dress is the same colour too. After all, green doesn't go with many colours.