Summary: "She is locked up in enmity. Split in two and her greatest rival is..."
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, yadda yadda...
She is locked up in enmity. Split in two and her greatest rival is herself. Loathing cinder blocks of pain build her walls; build them so high it doesn't show.
Not on the outside.
On the outside she is shimmering silver sparkles, a wash of magenta film on her lips and Kohl-smoked eyes.
She is perfect. Put together. In place.
She stands with confidence and she walks with grace. She laughs with mirth and rolls her eyes with distain.
She communes with the Gods of shopping daily. Plastic is her drug. Prada is her caffeine. She is the typical rich girl.
She isn't afraid of anything. She is not a coward.
She trembles a little at the thought that someone has found a secret entryway to her heart. She sways and feels off-centre when Seth Cohen looks her way. So maybe she is a little panicked that this boy looks at her like she could be anything other than what she is.
That does not make her a coward. That does not make her afraid. It makes her something worse. It makes her human. And that is quite possibly her worst fear of all.
To him, she is not the snake that slithers in Dolce and Gabbana. She is not the reckless teen who parties to dull the pain. To him...she matters.
And that absolutely terrifies her.
That Seth's first instinct was to step in her way as a mad-man waved around a gun, to protect her, makes her head spin with incomprehension.
At night she sheds the layers of superiority. She breaks down those walls with a sledgehammer of soap.
She removes the suntan lotion from her skin and the smell of sand melts away with gallons of water down the drain, but she can't remove the copper hue. The result of hours wasted on the beach remain strong and proud.
She's a frightened little girl who lost her mother and got a replacement that never quite filled the void. It was her step-motherthat taught her to use her body and not her brain.
Summer is nothing, if not spoiled. But not in the way people think. She is spoiled in the truest sense a person can be.
She rots away as her father overcompensates with expensive gifts from Italy and perfumes from France and all she really wants is someone to see past her sweet, maraschino cherry smile and look into the depth of her Stonehenge eyes.
She is locked up in enmity and so far no one has found the key.