"Hm."

She'd been reduced to mumbles - her once joyful face was cracked and devastatingly depressing.

Sofya had been sick as a child, she could still run around and be happy, but she looked different. She was not normal, at least not to her mother, Feodora. She'd been experimented on until she was 'perfect', almost completely porcelain.

Until she tripped.

She cracked her face - leaving a permanent hole in her face. She could talk, but it was hard and she didn't want to, anyway. Her mother said she was so disgustingly imperfect that talking was a waste of time.

She isolated her, kept her away from everything so that no one would see her disgraceful daughter.