Dirty || Seulrene FF

-ten-

Sordid.

Vile.

Disgraceful.

And yet...

...Beauteous

Magnificent.

Divine.

Yes.

Divine.

So very...divinely wicked.

The distinguishing jumble of rivaling objectives best described the catastrophe that manifested in the fogged bathroom mirror before me, it's medium silver frame stopping just short of my shoulders to conceal my nudity. A tranquil mist engrossed the tight spaces of thy comfort room as the after effects of my mid-day shower blissfully glistened on my moist skin.

God knows just how long I stood there in all my bare nakedness, entirely immersed by society's chief weapon of narcissism.

Vanity.

I despised such a word.

But in this very moment, I was riveted.

Mystified.

My dampened web of curls was swept neatly over my right shoulder, shamelessly unveiling my neck---

---The main attraction to the circus that is my body.

Freshly swollen welts and purpling splotches colored my plain of flesh, trailing heinously from my upper neck down to the left portion of my collarbone.

A treacherous sight I was.

A sight so conflicting in it's true meaning.

Alarm would strike to the typical eye at its vivid gruesomeness.

It's sheer brutality.

To my eye, it was beauty.

Art.

A true conundrum that parroted the tarnishing sexuality of Horangi high's glorified princess.

Yes.

My body was merely a canvas for the unrefined wickedness of Irene Bae. The raw ugliness of her imperfection was tattooed across my skin, etched in the fibers of my soul.

I was marked---branded as an unintentional parting gift from our iniquitous locker room affair.

I'm marked.

The tips of my fingers feathered lightly along the tattered skin, fraying shortly after to closely examine the wripe bruises wrung around my wrists.

A nasty result from my everlasting struggle with my uniform tie.

Our form of restraint.

Shit.

That girl tied one hell of a knot.

Luckily, I was able to loosen its bindings enough where I could wriggle free.

I held no regrets.

Sure, I been bounded, teased, and abandoned by Irene due to the hellish scorn every woman possesses. However, if given the chance to reply said events, I wouldn't change a damn thing.

I'm her fucking toy.

Wind me up, lay me out, and wear me down.

No matter what I'd endure, I'll always be ready for more.

Little by little, 'Mrs. Shattered Perfection' gained experience in this dangerous game of desire.

Of obsession.