Did You Want It Bad?

[Salic]

The water of the shower ran over Lara Bullock's body, cascading from her hair and shoulders, down over her toned abdomen, and into the tub below. Hot showers were one of the few luxuries she ever allowed herself, and she valued them greatly. The shower was one of the few places where she could just exist without the weight of the world pushing down on her shoulders. She didn't have to worry about the financial stability of the farm, or how she would maintain her grades, or whether anything would come up tomorrow that would throw a wrench in her meticulously crafted schedule. In the shower, she could simply be. It was Lara's own little dimension where the accumulated stress from school, chores, and a lack of sleep could melt away, finally lifting the weight of her own expectations off of her chest. No matter how brief it was, it was a respite that she gladly took.

The moment the water was turned off and she put her feet on the little rug, the stress of the real world came flooding back. There was no true rest for the ambitious, only brief refuges where it was safe to ignore the outside world. Her refuge was finished. As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom and into her connected bedroom, there was an excess of homework she couldn't finish before lacrosse that day. It was almost as if every teacher had decided to synchronize their extra homework day on the same day. However, it really was no matter. Lara was sure she'd get it done at a reasonable hour.

As she went to go and retrieve her towel, she passed in front of the full-body mirror. She glanced at it absentmindedly, fully intending to move on and get her towel so she could dry off.

But something was holding her back.

Her eyes slowly traced her way down her body, from her hair all the way down to her feet, mentally marking every muscle, every scar, every callous that marked her body. She knew that it was a body that she had worked hard for, a body that was uniquely hers, but... she just couldn't bring herself to feel proud of it. Every callous was a reminder of just how grueling farm work could be. Every scar was a reminder of a failure on her part to be safe. Every toned muscle was a reminder of just how unladylike she was. Her height, her bone structure, her unpainted nails, all of it bothered her. As she took in the image of herself reflecting off of the mirror, all Lara could think was that it was a body that no one would want to be with. No man would want to be with a woman who was more masculine than him. Hell, no woman would want to be with another woman who had a body like Lara's. It was a body that was unloved. It was a body that was unlovable. It was-

Lara swallowed thickly before averting her eyes from the mirror. She dried off, brushed her teeth, and slipped on her sleeping shirt and shorts. On her way out of the bathroom, she couldn't help but glance at the mirror again. It was unsecured, simply laying against the wall at a slight angle. Lara grabbed the frame of the mirror, making sure not to look her reflection, and turned it around. There. She looked back at the mirror. No reflection to be seen. She nodded at her handiwork, though a look of dissatisfaction still adorned her face. Lara did not dwell on it, however. Instead, she simply turned towards the door, strode out of her bathroom, and turned the light off.

Her homework took slightly longer than it should've. But it wasn't because she was thinking about the mirror incident. Really, it wasn't. She also slept rather fitfully that night, but again, there was no way it was about the mirror. It was impossible. Lara Bullock didn't dwell on those kinds of things for more than ten minutes, much less several hours. But when she walked back into the bathroom far earlier than normal with a clenching feeling in her gut, the sight of the reversed mirror brought the ordeal freshly into her mind. After she finished up, she reluctantly turned the mirror back around, its reflection revealing the image of a tired, disheveled girl who carried around far more worldly weight than the average teen. It was imperfect, but it was her.

She went back to sleep without a sound.