• Flowers. Everywhere I look. Red, white, pink and in other imaginable colors. It was disgusting. People I don’t know pushing each other to get through the entrance. Then one of them noticed me. He shouts. Now every one of them turn around. And sees me.
    My escorts pull me away. Some stay behind to control the mob. I wish they left me there. So I could be trampled on. This way my day will end.

    There were ones that did approach me. They congratulated me. It was all fake. I did nothing. Their smiling faces. A ruse. Greed, Fear, Sympathy is what motivated them.

    My escorts. They led me to the room. There maids will make me pretty. It’s not needed. I'm pretty enough. No amount of makeup will hide my disappointment. Not that anybody can tell. My face is like ice. Frozen expression. Of boredom. And hate.

    A maid. Ellie. She gives me this smile. Asks me if I'm nervous. I look at her. I smile. A little one. I thought it was funny. Ridiculous really. As if I am ever nervous. Ellie leaves.

    She comes in. My grandmother. She gives this look. Of disappointment. Of disgust.
    Shame. She tells me. That one of our members was reduced to this. She leaves.

    My mother comes in. Mother who did not come from grandmother. She's crying. Her look. Of happiness. Or was she sad? Because she know that at the end of the day. I will no longer see her again. She leaves.

    My father comes in. Father who comes from grandmother. Expressionless. Your pretty. He says. He leaves.

    It was his fault. That I have to do this. Grandmother screamed. Mother begged. He didn't care. It was for the good. He says. For the family anyway.

    I look at the mirror.

    My eyes. The same blue color. But was lined in black lines. It made them stand out even more. I wiped it off.

    My face. Powdery white. With a hint of reddish pink around the cheeks. I look like a corpse. I wiped it off.

    My hair. Black. Tied up. In a bun. Not a single strand out of place. It hurt. I pulled it off.

    The maids come back. They are shocked. They don't know what to do. Time is running out.
    Grandmother comes in. She laughs. A small one. She looks better that way. She says. Just clean it up. She leaves.

    People say that I inherited her personality.

    Mother comes in. She looks at me. She comes over. She brushes my hair. She gives me a small hug. She leaves.

    People say that I inherited her beauty.

    Father comes in. He sighs. He leaves.

    I inherited nothing from him.

    I look at the mirror. I see me. Not pretty up. Just me. Except in white.

    I get up. Brush the wrinkles off my dress. And leave the room. To my fate.