Amilie June d1 Finished

I'm Amilie, you pronounce it Emily but my mother wanted it to be unique. I am tall and very slender, with my figure bordering on boyish. However I also have toned, if a bit wiry, muscles from working out to keep my body looking good. My skin is a medium honey shade of tan. I have wide brown eyes and dark, curly hair that I've heard I inherited from my father. The overall impression most people get of me is pretty.

If they could see what I look like under the clothes, they'd be repulsed. I have scars on my stomach from hurting myself and burn marks on my legs from escaping a house fire we had when I was little. Everyone else loves the way I look, but I hate it. The "pretty" girl who can't even live up to her mother's expectations.

I think I come across as snobby and stuck up to some people, because I don't really talk to anyone. Not at school, not in the shops, and not when I see them on the street. That would mean getting close to people, and that's something I just don't do. I like being able to quietly sit and think.

I don't like people because they make me feel uncomfortable. They stare at me and make me feel like an item for sale at some shop. I don't like the feeling of being for sale. Like I could be bought or sold at any moment, bad enought that Mommy Dearest treats me like property. Using what is left of my beauty after she dresses me to cover up those "ugly scars" as she calls them.

I hate it when she say that, or when she tells me what to wear. She dresses me in the prettiest clothes we can afford. I however, hate them. They draw attention and people's eyes to me. I'd much rather be able to fade into the shadows. I however, play the good obedient daughter and exhibit social graces. I put on the face of somebody brave and friendly and outgoing so I can pretend I don't hear voices in my head, constantly screaming at me.

Sit down and let me tell you my story, but I warn you its not a very pleasant one. Sure my life looks picture perfect from the outside. My family is very well off and I might not have to work immediately out of school, but then again my mother is trying to find me the "perfect match". She feels like she was cheated out of bettering herself by me. But I'll get to that.

I'll start my story with the fire we had when I was little, about six years old. My family was even better off than we are now, because we had a bigger, better home and more things. I was always a pretty child, and in my early years I was friendly and energetic. Then one warm summer night while I was sleeping, our family home caught fire. I woke up to smoke everywhere and screams. The smell of burning wood and the crackling of the fire. I grabbed up my stuff that I could reach and ran out of my bedroom, flames eating at my legs. I got out, but almost died of infected burns.

As I recovered and my mother realized I'd have scars on my legs, she turned cold. I wouldn't be able to do any fashion careers and better her situation, so I was useless. Her thoughts turned toward making sure I make a good match and marry well. It became her obsession, and I went along with it because I was trying to earn back her love. As I grew older, I realized I would never be good enough, so I started punishing myself, creating more scars, but none where anyone could see them. It got to the point where I hated going out in public, because I felt like everyone was judging me.

The only reason I go anywhere, besides school, is my mother tells me I have to. That I have to get out in the world and meet people so I can make a good match. I have to put on a brave face and smile and laugh and make friends. And then I can't even pick my own, Mother has to approve them. They have to be just as pretty (or handsome) as me and well off. All the snobby elite that never have any fun. unlike the friends I'd chose, but then again I have no choice.