Write about: beauty.
Spent a good chunk of this morning working on Kat's counselling website, as it is time for her to begin focusing on that area now that she's a bit more settled into her teaching job. It's mostly done, just a few tweaks here and there remain to be figured out. Looking forward to seeing it go live after all the hard work she's put in.
Once that gets sorted... I might actually have to get back to working on my Nanowrimo novel. That I wrote in 2009.
Her mother told her every single day that she was beautiful. Without fail. She could not escape the house in the morning without hearing those words.
And she meant it, too. Her mother was telling the truth. She could tell when she was lying. Like when she picked at her nails while talking about how excited she was to have the neighbours over for dinner on Saturday night. Or the way she stared at her daughter's right eyebrow while saying anything nice about her own mother, never quite making eye contact.
The words were very nearly ingrained in her skin. They felt like an extra layer of armor as she walked along the sidewalk. One more piece of protection against the harsh and cruel world that lurked beyond the comforting walls of home.
Some days she would repeat it to herself, over and over like a mantra. She would begin to believe them, fully and truly. A smile might sneak its way onto her lips as she entered the school grounds.
And then she would see Chloe Harris headed her way, with those vile words carried in both hands like poisonous darts always ready to be hurled without warning, and her defenses evaporated, leaving her naked and shivering in the cold.