I was scared. It was as if C had been possessed. This was not her. My Clara was confident and gorgeous and strong...what had happened in these past few hours?!? "What do you mean...?" I asked her. Even though I knew. I was in denial. -Don't say you'll do it don't say you'll do it nonononono- I thought over and over. "I'm gonna cut, Linds," C said. The worst had happened. "Clara it's not worth-" "You'll see," said C, interrupting me and passing me the firm black handled knife. "Do it." Her eyes bore holes into me. We stared into each other's eyes for what felt like hours on end; emeralds locked on sapphires. "You are strong enough," she pressed. I took a deep breath and pulled my sundress up to a little past my thigh. With the knife in my left hand, I made a short straight line on my leg. It hurt. Bad. But it was satisfying, seeing a red river on a perfect golden suntan. It was imperfect. I had an imperfection. "I'm proud of you Lindsey," said C. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what I had just done. I was shocked. "We are not weak. This does not make us weak," started Clara promisingly. "Instead, we are strong." "I know," I answered softly. "We can fight through the pain and get on with our lives and be imperfect yet fool the world into thinking we are golden." "Exactly," said C. And I didn't feel the walls cave in, didn't see the avalanche, was not prepared for the tsunami to take me over. I was clueless. But at least I was imperfect.
