She looked in the mirror. Her tear glazed eyes glistened back at her, her cheeks flushed with the terrorizing fear and her hair, wild and loose covered the beautiful contours of her face. Her naked, mutilated body was trembling under her gaze and there was a sudden chill running down her spine.
No, this cannot be.
She closed her eyes and dropped her face into her small petite hands. A few minutes passed and when she reopened her eyes there was a flash of fierceness, of determination in them which lasted only a second to give way to the brooding emptiness.
She opened her chest drawers and pulled out a blade and a pair of scissors. She stared at the blade in her hand but now there was no shivering, only numbness. She brought the blade closer to her body and in one swift motion slashed her arm with it. Then her other arm. She saw the blood trickling down, bright red against her light brown skin. Surprisingly there was no pain. She made small cuts on her breasts, stomach and legs. She then took the pair of scissors in her hands and cut off her beautiful, long tresses. She kept chopping until they hung unevenly around her ears. She had a new haircut and not like the ones that models supported in fashion shows but the truly haggard ones.
She saw her reflection in the mirror again. She was proud of her work. Now that she looked truly hideous, nobody would want to touch her. Nobody would want to rape her. Again.
She dropped the scissors and wrapped a pure white towel around her body. The towel soaked in the gushing blood and stained an ominous red. She walked out of the washroom, fearless once more.