Crissy stood before the mirror, staring at the wound on her face. It was one of many she had received in the past few months. Some faded with time while others lingered as scars, ugly reminders of the broken life she now lived. Before, she had shyed away from mirrors, only giving them passing glances each morning before leaving for school. Christoph, always noticing the details of her behavior, had once teased that if she saw someone who looked exactly like her, she wouldn’t even recognize them.

Now she was drawn to that reflecting glass, her eyes glued to the somewhat tainted images it produced. She lifted a hand to her face and ran her fingertips along the length of the cut. Suddenly an icy hand gripped hers and jerked it painfully away from her face. “Don’t,” the satin voice commanded, “touching it could make it worse.”

Crissy looked up at Christoph, who’s expression was as kind as it had always been. “It hurts.” she said lowly.

“I know it does.” he said, squatting down to her level. “I know it hurts, Crissy.” He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms tightly around her. His embrace was so tight in fact, that she felt as if she were being crushed by his strength. With one hand he gripped her golden hair and jerked her head back. He pressed his lips against her forehead, blinking when he realized how cold her skin was.

He released her from his grip, standing back up and straightening his black shirt. “Put some alcohol on it before it gets infected.” he told her, pulling back the mirror to reach the medicine cabinet inside. He took out a bottle of alcohol and reached it to her.

She looked at it with large eyes. “No, alcohol hurts.” she said.

He frowned and wet a cotton ball with it. He grabbed her by the hair and pressed the cotton ball against the wound, ignoring her cries for mercy. When satisfied, he shoved her back roughly, sending her crashing against the sink. She slid to the cold tile floor. “I’ve told you, Crissy,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone, “that we can do this one of two ways. Painful, or not.”

She eyed the bathtub across the room, careful not to see his face. Its very image disturbed her now. “It doesn’t really matter which path I choose, does it? They all involve pain. You made sure of that.”

He said nothing as he ran a brush through his ebony hair and buttoned his shirt to the top. He suddenly turned to face her again. “This looks too formal, doesn’t it?” he asked, undoing the top two buttons. “There, better.” He pointed a pale finger at her. “You should be getting ready for school. We’ll be late.”

Crissy nodded silently but made no move to get up. He stared at her, every moment of her stillness annoying him even more. He grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. “I said get ready for school!” he growled, the voice no suiting his face.

She walked on into her room and shut the door behind her, only to return minutes later dressed in a yellow sun-dress that complemented her hair. It was sleeveless and short, probably too short for a girl her age, with a bright blue flower print. Her hair lay across her shoulders in a wet, tangled mess from the shower she had taken earlier. Crissy hated dresses, but Christoph loved them. Therefore, she wore dresses.

“Fix your hair.” he said, looking at her with disgust.

“It’s fine.” she replied, slipping on a pair of blue sandals.

He plugged in the hair-dryer and motioned for her to come to him. She hesitated, but did as he commanded. He carefully dried her hair, at one point flipping it upside down to give it extra volume. She remained silent and still, allowing him to brush it then pull each side of it back into a ponytail. She was nothing more than a doll to him, a life-size Barbie for him to do with as he pleased.

When finished, he stood back and admired his work. “There, you look beautiful.” he said sweetly.

She simply nodded and followed him out the door. As if a puppet with the strings placed securely in his palm, she tagged along behind him. The walk to school was excruciatingly long, as she longed for the moment they would walk through those doors and Christoph would be forced to treat her normally.

Upon entering, a few of his friends approached him, fawning over him as if he were a great king to be worshipped. But why shouldn’t they? He was beautiful, intelligent, strong, and charming. Though quiet, he had a demanding presence that all either respected or feared.

Crissy chose this moment to slip away from him and make her way down the hall. She was aware of his eyes on her back as she left, she knew he always watched her every move, but with his friends gathered around him, he dared not do anything so strange as to keep his little sister with him at all times. Strange behavior brought forth unwanted suspicions, which in turn, could endanger their current living arrangements.

Crissy quickened her pace, wanting to be rid if her brother’s glare as soon as possible. No friends rushed to greet her, no one so much as waved. The hatred that the female student body had for Crissy had even spread to her grade. It was common knowledge that every girl in the school was in love with Christoph, and they all named her as the reason he refused to date any of them. It was no surprise, really, considering the response he gave to each hopeful girl: “I’m sorry, but Crissy gets jealous when I bring home girlfriends. You know how kids are, and I’m her only living relative now.”

Crissy paused in front of her locker, feeling the narrowed eyes of her peers without actually seeing them. She smiled inwardly, knowing that it was all part of her brother’s plan to utterly destroy her life. She couldn’t help but smile at her situation, because she no longer had the strength to frown.

She pulled two books from her locker and locked it back up. She turned to go to class but was quickly shoved back against the harsh metal. Pushes and shoves were nothing to her. She didn’t even blink. She instead lifted her eyes to the boy standing over her. She vaguely recognized him as a sophomore, but couldn’t attach a name to his face.

“My sister says you’ve been giving her trouble.” he said accusingly.

“Who’s your sister?” she asked, her expression one of carelessness.

The boy frowned. “Meg Bryant. She says you’ve been bothering her. She asked me to take care of it.” He pressed her against the locker, his eyes blazing, then grinned. “Don’t even bother asking for help. Everyone here hates you!”

He was right. Crissy glanced around at her schoolmates. Most of them were watching with blank expressions, some even smiling smugly, speaking with their eyes that she deserved anything she would get. Crissy closed her eyes, accepting her punishment for an unknown crime. She was very accustomed to pain and humiliation. It had little effect on her now.

Suddenly she heard a word, one little word that she would never forget, for the rest of her life. “Stop.” She opened her eyes, seeing an older girl who had placed a hand on the sophomore’s shoulder. “Stop.” she repeated.

The girl’s dark, violet eyes were serious and stern. Her hair was auburn and short, merely long enough to cover her ears. Her clothes were baggy and simple, a pair of faded jeans and a lavender tank top. Oddly, Crissy’s first thought was that Christoph would strongly disapprove of the girl’s looks.

The boy turned from Crissy to face the girl. “What?”

“I told you to stop. I know your sister. She’s a liar and a troublemaker. Crissy hasn’t done anything.”

The boy said nothing, but quickly raked his fist against the girl’s jaw, sending her across the hall and into the lockers on the other side. He shrugged and returned his attention to Crissy.

For the first time in months, Crissy felt emotion other than fear and sorrow. She felt concern, for the one person who had stood up for her, when she wouldn’t even stand up for herself.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” a familiar voice called.

Crissy quickly looked to the far end of the hall, where Christoph stood with an angry face. He rushed forward, undoubtedly to save her from the attack. But he didn’t have the chance before the sophomore collapsed to the ground, leaving the girl with the short auburn hair standing above him, one hand clenched into a fist and the other at her mouth, wiping the drops of blood from the corner of her lips. A large bruise was slowly forming on her right cheek.

Crissy blinked and stumbled forward. “Thank you.”

The girl smiled. “Don’t mention it. I get sick watching guys pick on younger girls. They think we’ll just sit back like lambs and let them slaughter us.”

Crissy couldn’t stop staring at her. She wasn’t what Crissy considered beautiful, with her mussed, wild hair and bruised face. She noticed other, more faint bruises and scratches along her arms. “You’re so strong, how did you do it?”

She gave a playful wink. “I take Kung Fu classes. You should try it sometime. It really sets you free.”

Christoph, who had suddenly approached them, placed his hand on Crissy’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” he said bluntly, turning to leave. He looked back at the girl. “Thanks for helping my sister.” His voice was cold, and verified what the girl already suspected: he didn’t want Crissy to have anything to do with her.

Crissy stopped and looked back, ignoring her brother’s disapproving voice telling her to keep going. “Wait!” she called at the girl, “What’s your name?”

The girl looked uneasily at Christoph, who by now looked annoyed beyond belief. “My name is Sara.” she finally replied.

Crissy smiled and continued on at her brother’s urges. As they turned the corner, Christoph glanced back at Sara. His eyes were met with hers, and they lingered there until the girl turned and retreated to her class.

Once they were alone, Christoph roughly dragged her along by the arm. “What was that about?” he yelled angrily.

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you yell for help or something?! You know I would’ve stopped him!”

She said nothing, her mind drifting back to Sara. She was lost in thought until Christoph shook her violently. “I know why now. You didn’t want him to be stopped. You wanted to be hurt just because you know it would hurt me!”

Crissy stopped. “It would hurt you to see me in pain?” she asked, the tone in her voice slightly sly, as if to remind him of the daily abuses he dealt her.

He slapped her, so fast and hard that she would have been knocked off her feet if he hadn’t been gripping her arm. “Shut up! Just shut up!” he screamed, his voice cracking. He stared at her for a moment, her eyes empty and emotionless, yet tears were welling up inside them.

He quickly fell to his knees and encased her in his arms. “I’m sorry.” he said, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’m so sorry! You know I love you, Crissy! I love you more than anything! I always have.”

She stood still, not bothering to return the affection. She was used to this as well, used to his brutal love. “I know you love me,” she whispered, “and I love you too. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to hurt each other as we do.”

He pulled back, his hands resting gently on her arms. “Let’s go home.”

“Home?”

“You were attacked. I’m sure you don’t feel like staying at school.”

“But...” she began, readying herself to protest but stopped when he turned to look at her. Contradicting him would undoubtedly lead to more pain, so she nodded in agreement.

“By the way, don’t talk to that girl anymore.”

“Sara?”

“Yeah, whatever. She’s a bad influence, walking around dressed as a boy with that horrible hair. And did you see her nails? They were painted purple and chipped!”

“But she helped me... and she was so nice...” Crissy said lowly.

He turned around. “She’s nothing. She’s an insect. Forget about her.”

Crissy gave no response, only she walked solemnly behind him. The doors opened and she took a deep breath. Home was drawing near, and so was her agony.