Tarnished

Prologue

"Who am I?" I question the girl in the mirror. Who clearly can not be me. But it is. This is who I am now.

I've been staring at my reflection in the mirror for approximately ten minutes now. A mixture of emotions running through me. The main one being disbelief.

I've anticipated this day. But never in a million years could I have expected for it to come under these circumstances. To be honest, if I had a choice, I would spend the rest of my life being someone else to appease my toxic father, until it tarnished my soul than have what happened force me to alter myself before I was anywhere near ready.

And I don't know if it's because I wasn't ready that's why this feels like an altercation or because it's a part of the process of finding yourself. Either way, it feels wrong. I feel wrong. And as I stare into the mirror, look wrong.

I don't even know where to begin with the girl staring back at me in the mirror. Who is me yet isn't me at the same time. I literally feel like I'm looking into an alternate dimension. My make up which used to consist of mascara, lipgloss and a little brow pencil has now been replaced with black and purple eyeshadow and almost pitch black purple lipstick.

Oh and to top it all off, pastel purple hair which is more on the pink side since I used pound shop box hair dye on my natural virgin blonde hair.

Regardless of being someone else my entire life, purple has always been my favourite colour so I'm not mad about my hair. It looks really good. I watched a YouTube tutorial and cut it up to my shoulders. Before it rested in the middle of my back.

To be honest, I might have exaggerated on my face because it isn't even the worst of it. My outfit is. My all-black outfit. But that isn't even the worst part of it. I bought an oversized pitch-black t-shirt from Primark which I paired with a black leather belt I found at a thrift store for five pounds that has silver chains dangling off it in a curve. From the same thrift store, I also bought a thick leather choker which also has chains dangling off it. And I bought chunky four-inch platform block heel leather boots from the same thrift store and guess what, they also have chains. Fucking chains!

Why chains Sarah? What is so appealing about chains. I don't fucking know. I saw it and immediately thought I have to buy this!

I ran out of money in that thrift store. Should have been a sign right? Nope, because luckily for me- you know what I'll just quote the shop owner, 'luckily for you that shirt is nice enough for a trade.' The shirt I was wearing was my thirty-pound baby blue short sleeve drawstring ruched shirt that showed the perfect amount of belly.

I traded that in for chains. Fucking chains!

And it happened to be thundering rain that day so I had a puffer jacket on to keep myself covered.

Just my luck, right?

To add to it, this is the only outfit I bought so I have to wear it because all my other outfits aren't "me" anymore. Not to mention I shoved them all into a bag to sell at the thrift store. And I'm scared if I dare wear something from my old life I'll chicken out and go back to it. And I cant. I can't go back to it.

At least there's one thing that doesn't have chains on it. And that's my fishnet tights.

Rest assured, if someone figured out how to put chains on fishnet tights, I would have bought them too. And if I couldn't afford it, DIY it myself.

Toying with the hem of the t-shirt, I nervously glance at the bin bag stuffed with my old life. My fake life.

As I take the first step forward into my new life, I'm brought back to my first question. Who am I?