The draped curtain over her window was already glowing, yet Janine hadn’t slept a wink. She just lay on her bed, staring at the darkness hanging above her head. Her eyes were burning with sleep deprivation and dried tears. And she felt really exhausted.

The light above suddenly lit, and instinctively, Janine faced the wall at her left to avoid the blinding beam.
“Get up,” an authoritative woman called.
“I don’t want to go to school today,” Janine muffled.
“What was that?” the woman demanded.
“I don’t want to go to school today,” she repeated louder.

The lady pulled the sheets covering Janine and threw it at the floor. Oblivious to her was the bloody marks on Janine’s thigh. She tried to hide it by lying on her stomach, but the woman neither saw nor cared. “Get up,” she said again coldly and left the room.

Janine’s eyes blazed again with tears the moment her mother was gone. She was shaking from anger and was having hard time breathing. Janine tried to stop the tears, to douse the anger, but it’s getting more difficult to control.

It took Janine a whole five minutes before she could get up. Her mother was looking intently at her when she got at the dining table. She ate her breakfast silently, trying not to mind the fuming lady beside her. Janine’s walk was a little awkward because the wounds on her thighs still stung. It was even more painful when she lathered it with soap and water.

She sat in front of the mirror after bath and didn’t like what she saw. Her hair had split ends and her arms were too fat. She didn’t like her breast – it was too flat; her shoulders, wide. Her face was sunken and sad. She tried to smile, but it wouldn’t convince anyone. Janine grabbed a brown box next to the mirror and inside was bandages: sticks of Band-Aid and rolls of gauze. The cuts weren’t too deep so she settled with the Band-Aid. She applied five new bandages and reapplied the four. It took her a long time to put her uniform on.

Fully dressed, she replaced herself in front of the mirror and combed her long, black hair. Afterwards, she pulled the pink box which contained her make-up equipments. She applied the thick foundation and the blush; then followed by the black eyeliners. Her eyes looked glassy and lifeless. With the eyeliners, it just looked bored. Finally, she twisted a black roll and a velvety red stick emerged. 
Janine deftly and heavily pushed the lipstick against her lips. She knew what her classmates whisper behind her back. “She looked like a slut,” they said. And with that thought in mind, she applied another layer.

Once done, she looked at herself again at the mirror and smiled. It looked more convincing, but it didn’t convince herself. It’s good enough for her. She stood up, got her bag and turned off the light.

Then, Janine smiled.