"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.

What started as something so simple as meeting a possible human bear in the middle of the woods, turned out to be the greatest life Winter McCaslin could have ever had. After being ripped apart from her best friend, she had no one. And now, she had the one.

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.