Dystopia

⌘ Don't talk to me

I jump on top of my bed, our small room does not allow much space for me to run, the door is still looked so I cannot flee. I'm trapped.

"Oh stop being such a baby Lena, come here," Cristina try's to coach me towards her.

I am a fighter. I won't give in.

"Never!" I yell rather dramatically and throw my pillow at her.

"You're such a drama queen!" She says, fixing her hair the flying pillow had messed up. "Don't you want to at least see what you look like with a bit of mascara on?" She try's to convince me.

"I don't even know what that is!" I yell when Cristina's long arms grab me, I could run but she is much taller than I am and stronger, I squirm uneasily in her grip.

Kick her and run!

No it's pointless.

"Come sit on my bed," she says to me in a annoyingly excited voice.

"I'm only letting you do this because I don't have the energy to stop you, but I'm telling you now this is a one time thing." I reluctantly sit on her bed.

She pulls out some liquid skin colour stuff from her makeup bag and smears it on my face, leaving my face feeling heavy and sticky. After that she puts a lighter shade of that stuff but in smaller bottle and applys it underneath my eyes, again I can feel the cool liquid begin to dry.

She takes out a brown pencil, which confuses me because what could come from a brown colouring pencil? She brings the pencil to my eye brows and begins to draw on them.

Once she is done with that she takes out the lipsti - eyeliner - from earlier and draws around my eyes with it, probably making them look extremely black.

Finally she finishes with some pink powder, lip stuff and a wet black brush thing which she uses to comb through my eyes-lashes; the whole endeavour is rather incommodious but I'm glad it's over now.

I don't feel much better about myself, in fact I feel really unconformable, I have an itch but I'm not sure if I can scratch it without smudging everything.

"Go look in the mirror." Cristina pushes me towards the bathroom.

I look at the mirror and almost screem, I feel like I'm in a horror movie and I've just escaped an evil scientist who's just messed up my face.

you look like your face is melting ew!

OH NO. I look terribly artificial, the stuff on my face is clearly not the correct tone for me, I look like those people that pretend they have a healthy tan but in reality they just look like a orange state.

All the black stuff around my eyes doesn't do me any favours, Cristina's green eyes pop with the black around them but it makes me look like I'm demented.

Why does it look so good on her?

What has she done to my eyebrows?!

They weren't perfect, but they were good enough, they were thick enough, they didn't need to be coloured in, now they look like two black pointy caterpillars resting above my demented eyes. All together I look trashy and cheap.

I look like her.

I can't stand it.

I look like my cheap mother.

I turn the taps on and scrub my face as hard as I can. Why isn't it coming off?! Cristina hears my frantic movements and comes to the door

"What are you doing?" She screeches as if I'm washing away her masterpiece.