I͟v͟y͟
I look ridiculous. I feel ridiculous. But this is how it needs to be.
Some of the other omegas are dolling me up but there's no excitement. No giggling. Soft whispers at the most.
Dead eyes and pale skin.
Thin frames and dirty clothes.
I gaze into the mirror, not liking what I see. Every bruise is covered with a thick layer of waterproof foundation, even the ones under my clothes. I guess he doesn't want the buyers to have any complaints about my appearance.
They want picture perfect everything so they can mar me as they please. Men like Russ enjoy staining and scarring what is pristine.
These omegas are tragically skilled at makeup application, having learned to hide the marks and scars of the beaten who need to look perfect in the eyes of others.
So much hiding. I'm n
