Chapter 24|Violence is not the answer

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"Tell me if I'm hurting you."

"You're hurting me."

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate."

"Wow, I feel so loved."

"Good to hear it. Don't blink or I'll stab your eyeball out."

"Violence is not the answer," I warned.

She shrugged. "Depends on what the question is."

"Well aren't you just in a delightful mood."

"Putting makeup on people with ADHD tends to do that to me."

I gasped. "I do not have ADHD."

"Then keep your ass still!"

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

I sighed irritatedly. "Please tell me you're almost done."

"I'm almost done."



"I'm going to punch you on the boob soon," I warned.

"Unless you want me to draw a black line down your face I would probably refrain from doing that," Tara said, placing the dangerous object back on her dresser and picking up a less sinister looking item.

She turned around, revealing the object. It was red and...oh my god, the horror!

"Get that away from me!" I shrieked, putting my hands up to shield my face.

Tara giggled. "I was kidding." She discarded the stick of red animal fat, picking up something a little more normal. A tube of clear liquid.

She smeared the sticky translucent goo over my lips, leaving my top lip stuck to my bottom one when she was done.

"Now are we done?" I asked with pleading eyes.

"Yes," she said, disappearing into her closet for a moment, returning with two dresses of different colours. One white and one blue.

"Here," she said, holding out the blue material for me to claim. I accepted it, running my fingers along the sheer fabric. It reminded me of a waterfall, the way it flowed right to the ground without interruption. Or maybe it's just because it was blue. I don't know.

Tara pushed me into her bathroom with my dress, ordering me to change. I did a double take as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair had been twisted into loose curls which draped over my shoulders, while an intricate braid swept from one side of my head to the other, creating the effect that I was wearing a crown.

I forced my face closer to the mirror, wiggling one eyebrow. The stranger in the mirror copied. I frowned, so did the reflection. I shrugged, must be me then.

I stepped into the dress, yanking it over my butt and pulling the straps onto my shoulders. It was unnerving because every time I glanced in the direction of the mirror I would see this person who didn't look like me, watching me change. Obviously I knew it was actually me, I'm not stupid enough to think that someone can actually be inside a mirror. But then there's Snow White and Beauty And The Beast. My inner child refuses to let me accept the fact that mirrors can't talk or show you the future, but when it comes to your future would you really want to see it? Would you really want to know how you die, or worse, see who marries your crush? I don't think so. Anyways, back to mirrors. They are very useful. Maybe I should take a leaf out if Perseus's book and kill someone with one. Probably not such a great idea. Considering it was Medusa he killed, I think I'll leave the mirror voodoo to him and stick to trying not to fail algebra.

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