Link to article: The Myself That Belongs To Me.
:scp-wiki:component:license-box
:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end
[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] It's been what feels like ages since I last looked beautiful. The thing is that my beauty is inhuman now. Skin that's lashed with fire, taut in places it shouldn't be. Bones that have been lived in for way too long. Muscles that haven't decided to be small or toned. Fats that cushion my abdomen but fail to hide how my pelvis juts out the sides. A body that runs on an appetite of sensation and little more. My prized possession is a fur coat. You'd be surprised; compared to what I usually have on, especially. An indescribable animal's shearings that weigh like nothing even as it trails behind me by an extra foot. Paired with a dress and heels but a minute later, I finally understood what it felt like to be eye level with… a colleague of mine at the time. The last time I was dressed by someone else before that was when we were— when I was eight. In the same week I got put into my dad's flannel to go fishing with my grandfather, I got put into a leotard for some ballet exam I only half-cared about. Even then, heels seemed like something only important people wear. Important, mean people, like the instructor. Like your mother, who visited the place and chose me, out of anyone. I apparently did second best in the group, only losing to you by the width of a pretty feather. It did feel good to feel tall for once, yes, thank you. But even with that; and with dressings and accessories and a giant mirror just like that dance studio from long ago, a mirror to look at and admire myself… pretty isn't beautiful, and at the time I certainly didn't enjoy staring at the scrawny version of me whenever I had to put clothes on every day. But I was, at that instant, made to be pretty again nonetheless. Hey, don't worry about all that, it's not your fault your mother was insane enough to make me into one of her experiments. No— my turn to talk– hush. You don't get to say it's your fault, this is her problem, not yours. I got all of those clothes for free because apparently a few Overseers get their tailored armor from the same place. I had to wear red for the dinner event they had me attend, but everything else I echoed from the outfits you used to wear. Heels, dress, hat. Immaculate, dangerous, beautiful. I know you don't remember. That's why I'm telling you all this. That's why we're here in this car driving to your family. That's why I'm agreeing to go with your little scheme. You don't have to remember anything to know I'm here for you. Really. I am. Not just for the vengeance-against-your-mother part of the deal, though it helps. Also, am I overdoing it on the distortion? Last I tried my anomaly on a car I made my passenger bend over the side of the highway to puke her guts out. You're fine? You're good? Okay. Okay. I… well. There's no skirting around this; I don't like myself, never have, and before all this, you were the kind of person that made me feel even worse. Not even maliciously, but you did fuck me up for years on end. Your mother made me a monster, and the convenience of time dilation doesn't make up for the stares and gasps people do when they see my broken face. Let's run through the plan again. We go in the house. You introduce me as your boyfriend. We get into our room and unpack. I start shit with Golden Child Of The Family while you incite your mother. We sit down for dinner and wait for the explosion. And I… well I think I'm going to scrap the speech I wrote and just go for the kill for efficiency. Hopefully, you also get to die in this arrangement, as sad it would be to see you go. I can't imagine, based on my wrath with your family, how it feels to be a part of that mess. But if we succeed here and make it out alive, let's hold a proper funeral party for our past selves. To celebrate the death of who did this to us. Real wood coffin to bury instead of our remnants in a shoebox. Dinner at a famous restaurant in a certain Nexus that owes me favors here and there. It's a date, then. And…I'll wear my fur coat when we do. Maybe I'll feel beautiful again— maybe I'll be a human person again. I truly can't wait. [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box-end]]