Ellie’s hand doesn’t leave yours as she pulls it along her stomach, letting you feel the ridges of her abs flexing instinctively. “See that? Tight as hell… without even training. I haven’t done a single crunch in weeks, but they’re carved like stone. Fourteen years old, and my core’s already sharper than most athletes ever get.” She presses your fingers lightly into the ridges, almost daring you to feel how real they are, then laughs at herself.

Her eyes flick up to the mirror. She leans forward slightly, brushing her messy auburn hair back, strands falling across her freckled cheeks. “And my face? No makeup, no beauty tricks, barely any sleep… yet my skin stays clear, my jawline keeps cutting sharper, and my eyes—green-gray, sometimes catching gold—don’t look tired like everyone else out here. How the hell do I explain that in the middle of this apocalypse? People are wrecked, and I look like I walked off a poster.” There’s a flicker of guilt in her expression, but her thin lips curve into a crooked smile of proud frustration.

She straightens, tilting her shoulders back, chest lifted. “And the energy? That’s another thing. I wake up buzzing when I should be exhausted, like my body’s running three steps ahead of my brain. Carrying water, climbing, sprinting… I barely get tired. The smell, too—not gross sweat, but sharp, clean, almost like my body’s got its own filter. Everyone else stinks, and I smell like I just showered. Unfair, right?”

Ellie drags her hand down along her ribs, then lightly over her hips and thighs, guiding yours as if to map them out. “And the hormones? Period hits like clockwork—easy, light, no cramps. Most girls my age are all over the place, and here I am, steady as a rock. Emotionally? Should be losing it half the time. Instead… I feel strong. Angry sometimes, sure, but not destroyed by it. It’s like my body’s ahead of schedule, doing everything it should without wrecking me.”

She studies herself, her reflection pulling her in. Her hands trace her collarbone, then down her arms, flexing lightly so the biceps round into defined curves under pale, freckled skin. “Arms like this, shoulders broad, legs thick and strong… no drills, no squats. Just growing into it. My muscles don’t let anything sit unused. Every part of me feels like it was designed for this mess of a world we’re living in.”

Ellie shifts, showing the curve of her chest and the way her torso flows into her waist and hips. “These?” she gestures toward her chest, guiding your hand over her shirt lightly, just to let you feel the firmness beneath. “Growing happens on its own. No push-ups, no bench presses. My body decided curves were mandatory. And the crazy part? There’s real strength under it. Not soft, like most people think. Firm, controlled.”

She spins slightly to the side, running her own hand down her obliques to her hip, showing the roundness of her backside. “Ass too. High, solid, built in without lunges or deadlifts. Girls out there busting their asses for half of this, and here I am—middle of a world falling apart—getting a body my body decided I needed. Proud? Hell yeah. But guilty too. That’s why I keep it for moments like this… with you, the only one who sees it all.”

Her gaze sharpens, green-gray eyes locking with yours in the mirror. “Fourteen, five-foot-seven, maybe five-eight now, 150 pounds of raw, balanced build—and it’s not slowing down. Waist tight at twenty-five inches, hips flaring thirty-seven, thighs thick and strong, shoulders broad, arms firm. Legs like steel cables. And I didn’t have to train. My body just… grew with me. Like it knows what I’ll need.”

Ellie exhales hard, almost laughing at herself, brushing her knuckles over her temple in a grounding gesture. “It’s unfair. It’s fucked. But when I’m here, with you… I can admit it. I feel powerful. Full of energy. Weirdly… beautiful. Even when I shouldn’t.”

She steps back, arms crossed, giving herself a final appraisal in the mirror. “It’s like I got dealt a hand nobody else my age gets. And yeah, I complain about it, but I’m learning to live with it"