She stood in front of the mirror, studying her body. She pinched her stomach, disgusted by the flesh between her fingers. I'm so fat, she thought to herself. I should eat less. That thought was immediately followed by another: If I eat less I'll lose weight. And the guys STILL think I'm pretty. I need to get fatter. I don't know why they think someone as fat as me is pretty. But I'll have to become so fat that they'll stop thinking I'm pretty. But that means eating. I hate eating. The scale said she was 110. Not fat for someone only 5' 1".

She let go of the skin between her fingers; she continued staring at the rest of her "uglification" works. Scars of lines and words covered her body. In some places she was so scarred that the words were illegible. In others, the scars of words stood out starkly against her skin. "Die," "Hate Me," said her right leg. "Whore," "Bitch," screamed her left. Her breasts said "Let Me Die;" her stomach "It's My Life; My Body." Her left arm said "Kill Me"; "Fucking Slut" was carved on her right arm. Not a place on her body from her knees to her shoulders was without its scars. Scars which she hid via her modest clothing: long sleeves, long skirts, and pants. And still they called her beautiful. She turned around and started the water in the shower with a sigh, willing herself not to think of the reason behind her "uglification." When the water got hot, she stepped under it.

But as she stepped into the water and it poured over her, the memories flooded back. Starting from the very beginning. The lesson taught her, oh so well, that nothing, no place is safe; that no one is trustworthy; and that males are to be avoided. Thus she locked up her emotions in a room of brick, reinforced by metal. Thus she took to making herself ugly. At least if she was ugly, one problem would be solved. But for now, she was lost in the memories.

It was her friend's new year's party. She had been invited; he hadn't. She didn't know him, but others did. Someone introduced them, they started talking. He was sweet, intelligent, and treated her as if she were his age?older than she really was. An hour passed as they talked, maybe two. The time passed so quickly. She said something to him. "Bite me." he replied. So she asked if he really wanted her to, when he said yes, she lunged at his hand, almost catching it. They spent the rest of the time rolling around on the floor as she tried to bite him. Finally she got him; her teeth marks white against his tan skin. It was time for the ball to drop; they stood watching it together. Then he had her sit on his lap, talking, until her parents picked her up. She got his number from a friend; he got hers the same way. For a while they talked, as friends do. About everything. Eventually they agreed to meet: in secret. Her parents would never approve. So they met at a park, talked, laughed, enjoyed themselves. She was never quite sure how, but their chatter turned into a kiss. Nothing more than that. They parted on good terms. They talked after that. He started saying he loved her, telling her how beautiful she was. He said he liked the kiss. He started pressuring her to see him again, he wanted to go farther. He wanted to "show her his love." The second time they met was in an abandoned parking lot. They kissed; he wanted her to give him head. He said she owed him, she believed him.

After that their conversations often turned to sex. He wanted to prove his love for her by having sex. She was a virgin, he wasn't. She was scared. He pushed her. She refused to see him. He demanded. Said she was hurting him with her rejection. Soon she would go abroad for a while; he wanted to see her before she left. She agreed to meet him.

They met at his house when his parents were out of town. It started off nicely, talking, kissing. He started removing her clothes. She was fine when he removed her shirt, and when he removed his. When he removed her pants and panties she got scared. She'd never been this far, never been nude in front of a guy, she felt vulnerable. He hugged her, calmed her down, told her he loved her, he would never do anything to hurt her. When she was calmer, he stripped himself too. He enticed her, gently pleasuring her senses, himself becoming aroused. As he positioned himself to enter her, she pulled away. "No, please," she whispered. "I love you. I'll be gentle. I want to show my love for you. Besides," he added, "you owe me. It's been two years; everybody else has done it sooner. Now spread your legs." Fearfully she did, his hands pressing on her thighs. Suddenly there was a sharp burst of pain as he entered her, more pain as he caused himself the ecstasy he desired. When he finished, he threw her clothes at her. "Get dressed. I need to take you home."

She remembered it all, the pain, the fear, the betrayal. Afterwards he made fun of her to his friends. She got labeled as "easy." Guys wanted her. That was when the self destructiveness began. He had said she was beautiful. That must have been why he liked me. So I'll make myself ugly.

As she came back to herself, she saw she had ripped open the scabs from her cuttings the past couple days. The water washed the blood down the drain. The water was cold now. She stopped the bleeding, turned off the water. She got dressed and went out to face a world that would never learn her secret, but would always think her beautiful. Her smile, pasted to her face, hid the pain in her eyes.