I see a white porcelain face with red lips and a crack over one eye staring back at me. Chocolate brown eyes stare deep within my soul as I try to remember. I’m trying to remember how I look without this mask I wear. I only know that what may lie underneath is caramel complected with a yellow undertone. There is a small slit between the heart shaped lips on the alabaster mask for me to breath and talk through. I feel plush lips brush against the rough back surface of this guise.
There may be uncertainty within about what may lie beneath, but it doesn’t deter me from the unmasking. See I haven’t seen my own face in two years. I only know of the deep melanin that cover my body, and the dark coils that comes out of my head. My curves are strong and deep shaping me in an hour glass form. My skin only knows the smooth and softness of the silk robe that usually adorns my body, and the bruises of blacks and blues that cover it from time to time.
I’ve been forced into a life of sexual slavery after being kidnapped as a young runaway teen. Who knew that the very demons that I were trying to escape would lead me to one that was far more terrifying than the one I had knew? It has been so long now and I no longer know who I am or what I look like ever since this mask had to become my new face. Now I am faced with something more terrifying than the demon that lay at my feet covered in crimson; the revealing of myself.
The eyes staring back at me were no longer lifeless, but angry. After all the years of abuse and seclusion and rape, I finally found enough strength to put an end to it. I faced my demon straight on and killed it. Stabbed over fifty times until my arm went limp. Now I long to see what is beneath this white mask.
Bloodied fingers grip the edges of the mask, tugging to separate two faces. At first it was hard to get it loose and detach from my skin, but after a bit more effort it finally came off. I stared down at the mask that hid me for years and now I come face to face with the real me.
I scream. Loud. It’s gut wrenching.
Like rain drops my tears fall through the air as I fall back on my behind. Sitting in a pool of blood as I stare in horror at the mirror, I scream again. Staring back at me is the same porcelain mask with the crack on one eye and red heart shaped lips. The only difference…it’s my actual skin.