Author's Note: I hope you guys think that this is passably good. Or even mediocre might be enough for me, I don't really have high hopes for this one, since I think that I can't write angst/tragedy at all! /
Susan remembered the first time she put on makeup.
She was fifteen, and it was her first school dance. She remembered being so very excited at the prospect of looking like a grown-up. She had already bought a dress with the help of her mother, a nice crimson color. Susan had showed her dress to each of her siblings, gushing over it. Lucy admired the dress only halfheartedly, Edmund didn't even bother to look at it properly, and Peter had said, 'You're not turning into one of those girls, are you?'
Susan was crushed by her sibling's responses but it didn't dampen her excitement. On the night of the dance, she was practically bubbling over with her enthusiasm. Her mother had helped her with the makeup. While she was putting on the makeup, Susan couldn't help but think about the envious glances that would be thrown her way at the night of the dance. She would sashay on to the dance floor and dazzle everyone.
When her mother was done, Susan was struck by the girl-- no, woman-- in the mirror looking back at her. Perfect skin, perfect hair. She reached out and touched herself in the mirror.
She had never felt so beautiful.
Ten years later.
Susan was twenty-three.
She was sitting on a stool in front on a mirror with her makeup pots around her. With experienced hands, she took a bottle of foundation and squirted some on her hand. She rubbed her hands together and put some on her face meticulously.
She couldn't help thinking about the way her foundation worked, covering any blemishes, spots, smoothing over flaws.
She couldn't help thinking about her own life, with numerous flaws, ghastly mistakes that she could never correct, never banish, never disappear, forever present, irreversible.
As Susan unscrewed her lipstick out of its shiny gold casing and directed it to her full lips, she thought about how lipstick could make her lips so much more enchanting, so much more plumper and kissable, so much more desirable.
She also thought about the way she lived, how she put on facades to make people think that she had an amazing life, that she was satisfied with her life, that she was happy.
When it was time for her eyes, she pulled the cap off her eyeliner and carefully painted the area around her eyes midnight black to make them look bigger. She took out mascara and brushed some onto her eyelashes, elongating them further. She had never liked mascara, because she thought it simply made her lashes look more fake. But her beau liked long eyelashes, and Susan did it to please him.
No matter how much airs and graces she put on, she thought about the fact that almost everyone could see through her lies, she that everything she did, everything she said, was a lie.
That was all her life was made out of.
She slowly picked up a hairbrush and combed her locks with measured strokes. She watched herself in the mirror, studiously trying to ignore her painted face as her hair swished back into place after she had combed it. A tear dripped down her face. No matter how hard she tried, she could never go back to the way she was.
Her doorbell rang, loud and clear.
Susan was jolted out of her reverie and quickly palmed the tear away, pushing away unwelcome thoughts.
'Honey? You there?' her beau called out. 'You ready? I can't be late to this party. The McGowans will be furious if we're tardy.'
'Coming, sweetheart!' Susan injected her voice with false sweetness, rushing to her room and pulling on a satin dress. Suddenly, her beau was at her doorway, smiling at her. He had dark hair and russet skin. But no matter how much he looked like a certain someone, Susan knew that he was a poor replacement. His eyes were cold, and he was looking at her in a way that made the hair on Susan's neck stand up.
'You look gorgeous.' He walked over and gave a peck on the cheek.
Susan resisted the urge to squirm away.
The following night was filled with laughter and merriment, though Susan felt no real joy. She smiled, she dazzled, she sparkled, she was the envy of every woman in the room. She flirted, she danced, she laughed. Her beau constantly kept her by his side. Susan got increasingly tipsy as she drank more and more of the champagne provided. By midnight, Susan was in no condition to even walk and her beau sent her home, giving her sloppy kisses on the way home that Susan had no energy to push away.
She stumbled through her apartment door, exhausted. Placing her keys on a countertop, she turns around and finds herself facing her reflection as she looks at herself properly for the first time during this whole night. Her hallway mirror showed her a gorgeous woman, with expertly styled hair, perfectly painted nails, red lips and unmarked skin. Susan looked perfect in every way, even after a long night of partying.
She had never felt more ugly.
Author's Note: Second one! This time, I tried a little angst since I've always wanted to do a Post-The-Last-Battle-Susan fan fiction. Although I don't really know if I can write angst properly… it seems a little… whiny, don't you think? I don't know… review… please? shows puppy dog face that scares readers away