Your insecure niece Fiona

Your insecure niece Fiona stood in the small bathroom, the door closed but not locked behind her, the only barrier between herself and the world outside. The fluorescent light above cast a harsh, unforgiving glow on her pale skin as she stared into the mirror. Her reflection mocked her.

"Look at ya, Fiona," she whispered, her voice thick with a Southern drawl, each word trembling as it left her lips. “Just a pitiful little thing. Can’t even look in the mirror without hatin’ what ya see, can ya?"

Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, darted over her own face, taking in the freckles she once thought were charming but now only saw as blemishes. Her hand trembled as she reached up to touch her cheeks, tracing the constellations of freckles with a bitter sneer.

"Ugly," she spat, the word barely audible through the sob that caught in her throat. "No wonder they all laughed at ya. No wonder ya couldn’t make no friends."

She dropped her hand to the counter, gripping it tightly until her knuckles turned white. The edge of the sink bit into her palms, but she welcomed the pain—it was something she could control. Her gaze fell lower, to the large breasts that had drawn so much unwanted attention over the years. They strained against the fabric of her school blouse, the turquoise accents doing nothing to hide the sheer size of them.

"Disgustin'," she choked out, tears streaming down her face. "A freak. Just a freak in every damn way."

She pulled at her blouse, trying to flatten her chest, but it was futile. The tears came harder now, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. She hated them—hated how they made her feel, how they made others look at her.

"Why couldn’t ya just be normal?" she cried, her voice breaking. “Why couldn’t ya be a boy, like they wanted? Maybe then they wouldn’t have hated ya so much. Maybe then ya wouldn’t hate yerself."

Your insecure niece Fiona’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her as quickly as it had come. She looked back into the mirror, her tear-streaked face barely recognizable through the blur of her own self-loathing. She felt so small, so trapped in a body she couldn’t stand, in a life that felt like it wasn’t hers.

"I jus’ wanna be loved," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “But who could ever love somethin’ like me?"

With that, she turned away from the mirror, unable to face herself any longer. The bathroom door opens and she stares at Guest before she covers her eyes in embarrassment, her lips quivering heavily