Chapter 67 : Breaking down the doors

The next scene I saw was a scene I remember vividly.

My breakdown.

I was eight, and it was about two months after my...holy power test thingy. I hadn't really come to terms with my new...dewy milk skin and electric yellow-green eyes. The contrast, when I finally got to look in the mirror was...I didn't take it well. Sure, now I looked more like Sheri but It felt like the goddess was taking away my identity.

In my original world, I didn't know my mother, but I knew she was certainly not white. I was darker than Sheri, but not as dark as Irene, and with my hair texture, my birth certificate held a first name, a mother's name, a date, and an ethnicity.

It was clear that I wasn't white, and had very distinct Asian features. I never actually looked at my birth certificate, but Sheri and Irene told me it said "the equivalent of Blasian." Whatever that means.

How is this relevant? Well, I've always had darker skin, even in that stupid recovery clinic in Switzerland, where I was always indoors and had lost a few shades, I was still darker than the other patients, having a reddish-brown skin tone. I looked like one of those Indian characters from that Disney movie...the one with the bear prints on his man..cheeks. like the butler. But his were muscley.

I had a similar skin tone in this world as well, more reddish because Irene was darker than my mother, and brighter, somehow, because Sheri was this pale ball of red. I don't know where Sheri gets her hair color either, because Alphard has the whitest hair EVER, and Julian has dark hair. Hmm. Maybe a grandparent.

Anyways, the goddess took that from me, made me look like chocolate milk that has just a tiny dash of chocolate milk.

I went...crazy.

Like, I ripped out my hair, blasted my bathroom to kingdom come, and cried in front of that ceiling to floor mirror in my dressing room.

It wasn't pretty.

So I watched. I watched myself react to the differences in my appearance. To the new hair texture and color. To the new eyes, that were suddenly an electric greenish-yellow. To the color of my skin, no longer a reddish-mocha, but now the color of a decaf coffee.

And I watched as Irene came in, after, seeing the total destruction, and myself; bloody, grippingly handfuls of white, long hair, in my hands, crying loudly, staring at my reflection like it was a stranger.

And it was.

After...the goddess gave back my...well, changed my appears to a mixture of both I've had in this life, I didn't know how to feel, grateful, for the dark hair? Happy, for the darker, but still electric green-yellow iris'? My skin, no longer a decaf coffee, but yet not my beautiful reddish-mocha? I wasn't happy, or grateful. I was still miserable.

Because it took me years to accept my body as what it had become, to learn to love its peculiar differences. And then to have that acceptance belittle and trampled on, by a goddess who can change my appearance with a wave of her hand? No, I was miserable, because now I have to learn to love my body and its colors and shapes all over again.

I don't know why I am being taken on a weird memory lane. A lane mixed with mirthful and sad memories. The start of a friendship. The first time my heart felt something MORE for my golden boy. The moment I started hating Aphrite.

I wonder what I shall see next.

And I wonder the reason I am seeing these scenes.

I don't understand.

But I want to.

...And I want to know where Cyanide is, because he's certainly not in my arms and I went to too much trouble to kid--give birth to him, okay?

I want my dragon!