Perfect Poison

PROLOGUE

MODEL.
A person idolised for a standard of beauty society deems appropriate . A twisted perception of what millions possess but only one in a million sees.

And even those few aren't plastered across the advert boards for little children to admire.

A new beggining.
But the old me has  risen.

Yes.
The old me was perfect.

My face has been adored across the suburbs and lavish areas of south eastern asia, for holding the title of Korea's cutest child.

My parents took drastic measures to ensure i was pampered to perfection.
"Quite a beauty isn't she?"

Yuko ,my own personal stylist happily adjusted a single wavering strand of hair flaking out from my long blonde locks.

"Oh , i must admit she has the face of an Angel." Nari chipped in applying a dark blush to the apples of my cheeks determinedly.

Both my stylist and Makeup artist inherited the same rosy pale skin, pouty pink lips and sunshine smile.
The reason for this was that they were cousins.

"Oh Nari." Yuko sighed happily. "How did we become so lucky?"
This is specifically aimed at me, although my understanding of it is beknown to them.

"Ah i know Yuko." Nari beamed caressing my nosebridge with glittery contour.

"What a blessing we recieved to work with such a-" By this point i had zoned out, admiring the neutral themed dressing room filled with black and white furniture.

Both of them occasionally spoke chinese around me their mother tounge, though i highly doubt they realise i speak fluently.

Modelling agencies loved me. Moulded me. Made me. Vogue armani Versace you name it. I endured it all.

When photoshoots weren't booked for me , while Masterbedrooms were shut and  my parents screams frollocked from the  narrow hallway to my room. I'd play by myself.

I loved block towers as a child.

My little head spun with ideas on where to dislocate the blocks to get a big.loud.crash.
I would never giggle at. Just watch it crumble  to a broken rainbow. It was  facinatingly satisfying. Such a smart cookie i am.

There was a particular block slightly dented on one side a mirky green on the left and a fireman red on the right.

It's dangerously sharp edges was what sparked my interest ,forever favoured by me.

Why? This way i could scrape my  little hands against it before the blocks thunder to the ground.

Taking risks is something people like me do. Because i am the risk. The guilty pleasure. My trials and tribulations will condone bad and good. Right and wrong.

Until the attention  i desire is recieved. My birthright. My rules.

Playing the role of a victim isn't difficult when you victimise yourself.
A made up game i made was.
Scrapes, cuts, stains.
Here me meet again.
"Ow."
Red liquid races down my milky white skin.
"Oh my lord she's bleeding!" People begin dancing around me like mating butterflies. Seriously?

"Provide something for the wound!" "Quick! Hurry!" Kourai flew across the room tossing products to and throw, searching for bandages.

I hold in a chuckle.
This is almost amusing.
"It's only a little cut." I shrugged elegantly.
"Little."
Nari's eyes hung wide over my carving, pupils dilated. "Little?" she repeated almost to herself.

What a understatement. I practically bored a hole through myself

My manager yanks at his small patch of receeding hair. "Were on in 3 minutes! Shit! How did this happen?"

I glare at my bloodstained hand thoughtfully before replying.

"Strange habit."
A peculiar one indeed.

But nostalgic nonetheless.