The girl was with the child every day.  She said, “I will protect you.”

She said, “You are worthless.”

The girl came to the child everyday and tormented her.  She came with fine-tipped brushes and paint, and she covered the small, pock-marked face with cosmetics.  “You are ugly.”  She dyed her hair, and covered her fragile body with silk. “You are plain.” The fat fingers were ringed with gold–the misshapen ears with diamonds.  “You are not enough.”

And every night she went away disappointed.  And every morning she came back.

She would say, “You are fat.”  She starved the child, and drilled her in exercises, until she was spent and gasping for breath, but never let her rest until, “You are scrawny,” she would say, and then she would make the child eat until she was bloated and sick.

She lied to her, and scolded her, and threatened her, and cursed her.  She told her she was ugly and lazy.  “But I will help you,” she said.

“I am everything you need,” she told the child.  “We will do it alone. We are strong.”

But she never let the girl go free.

~*~

And the child sat in the dark.  And waited.

She waited in the room with the mirror, for the girl to come.  The child frowned at her torturer and said, “I am everything I need.  I will do it alone. I am strong.”

And everyday the girl stood in the dark before the mirror and waited, for the eternity that is wrapped up in a split second.  For an eternity the girl-child waited for the flip of the light-switch, and the appearance of her tormenter–in the mirror.