“I don’t see why you say those things about yourself.”

Renee spoke quietly, cross necklace dangling down across her chest like a taunt as she stared at you. It was hard to tell the difference between sympathy and pity.

The fingers carding their way through your too-messy locks felt like they should burn something as wretched as you. A soul that beautiful shouldn’t care so much about someone like you.

But it was a paradox. Her soul was so pure she had to care.

Renee sighed softly, grasping the glass of water on the table and bringing it to your lips. Chapped, cut, and chipped lips that didn’t deserve the water. A dry throat that housed the source of an ugly voice.

“Despite everything; you’re alive, aren’t you? How can beauty that is living not be true?”