She was the type to stare herself in the mirror and see someone else stare back. Someone who was free and light, being able to spread her wings like an unbound angel. She was neither chained to Heaven nor Hell. Howbeit, no matter how far she reached into the mirror, she could never step through as her ball-and-chain presented itself in the form of a crown. She was a princess with two faces, desperately trying to have a sense of freedom outside of her royal obligations. She found it in the form of a weakness: a passion with another human being. Her love for him and ballet had kept her chin high; her crown not slipping from her pastel hair. So why, why did it suddenly become so hard when a gothic gymnastic back-flipped into her life? Why were her heartstrings being tugged on by someone of her same gender? Why was it suddenly so difficult, so strenuous to keep living in her pastel world when this mysterious girl brought such bright colours with her? TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of sex, suicide and other mature themes will be contained within this book. Read at your own discretion.

He stepped toward her, lifted her chin in his hand and opened his mouth, but words wouldn't come out. "Connor..." "You could have been wearing something a lot similar to this while reciting your vows to Stephen." He wanted to sew his mouth shut when he saw the look of horror on her face. He had said something terribly wrong. "I forgot for a moment that you two are just friends and he gave you up because I love you so damn much." The dress was suddenly too much to bear. It weighed heavy on her, and the tiara on her head had her scalp crawling with beads of sweat. The lace on the gown made her entire body itch while the blinding white material burned her eyes to tears. "Get this off of me," she cried, desperately reaching for the zipper. A white dress and a jealous boyfriend were not included when she joined the agency.