You stared at the mirror in front of you, your gaze locked on your reflection with a look of disgust. You couldn't help but pick out every little detail about yourself; every imperfection that shouldn't be there. Vaguely, you wondered if it was possible to never show yourself to the public again. Before you could tear yourself down anymore, Graves appeared.

"You almost ready, darlin'?" He asked, adjusting the collar of his shirt. You felt jealous. He never had to try. He was always pretty.