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Jennie polishes her lips. The curves on her body indecisively snakes on her waist. Her skirt blemishes down on the hems of it like petals; everyone could easily wrap their arms around her. Jennie Kim is as beautiful as the rose; she is captivating you see.
But there's always something that makes her feel grotesque.
Her mother died and now she is all alone with a man who has nothing in his mind but money and power. Of course, you will do anything and i mean anything to grasp it. Inside her father's mind is a pewter void that only revolved in always having the upperhand.
Always.
Now that Jennie has no one to hold onto, her father uses her to attract and attract, to show and show everything that she can for men who would lower themselves-- for men who are willing to sacrifice their wealth for a simple vagina.
Tsk tsk tsk. Look at how she has grown from dressing up barbie dolls to dressing up men.
She guesses this all started when that one woman left this world and went to her own paradise. Her mother was always the one who would keep her father's waters calm but when she faded away; it seems like his sanity desintegrated as well.
It could be Jennie's fault as well.
She was angry that time; and what did a little girl know about controlling it? There was an absent feeling in her mind as she held the pencil that killed her own mother. It gashed right through the arteries of her heart like that little candy she used to poke every night.
The screaming, the blood-curling shouting for help is insatiably addicting.
Jennie looks at herself at the mirror. She grabs her lipstick, stabbing her face through the thin pane glass. She remembers what she did.
Her mother took her crayons, that was hers. Jennie lunged forward whilst holding the pencil and there she saw blood everywhere. On the floor, on her hair, on her dress, some on the wall, but mostly, it was inside her mother's.
Jennie couldn't stop. The feeling of her mother crying underneathe her drove her mad. The feeling of her sticky blood painting her pastel blue dress made her insane. Hence, she did not halt one bit.
But she did realized what she did after remembering what her teacher used to tell her about anger in preschool. "Don't let anger consume you."
Don't Let Anger Consume You.
Jennie screams loudly, wanting to break the mirror in front of her. She sees herself with blood, with anger, and she doesn't know why it drives her to pleasure. Wiping the lipstick on her chapped lips, Jennie stares at the mirror that is filled with the greasy amount of lipstick.
