Demi's pov
I wanted to change my mind about attending the party but I couldn't because that would make Bopha feel bad.
I sat still, averting my gaze from the mirror and staring at my fingers as she brushed my hair, running the bristles down the strands with soft strokes.
I had picked a simple flowy gown out of the ones that lined my wardrobes. I didn't know how they got there but I was glad I had more clothes.
It had long sleeves and a high neck that covered my scars and flowed from the waist with fullness to cover how scrawny and imperfect I was.
I had let her apply lipstick for me and powder my face a bit.
I loved the look on it even though I felt weird because I was never exposed to such luxuries.
When I had taken my bath earlier, I had scrubbed and scrubbed till my skin was almo
