She looked into the mirror, tears sparkling in the candle light, hands running over the bulk of her torso, the extra skin that had been with her since birth and had never been willing to part. Her heart broke with the thought that he could not love her in her imperfections, could not accept her emotional and physical flaws. Many had called her beautiful, yet those were the few that could see within her, see the true beauty, her true heart behind the veil of her physical form.
Would he do so in kind? she wondered. Being the gorgeous male he was, being the vision of beauty she felt she was not, could he bear to be beside her? Could he stand the emotional breaks, the daemonic rages that often coursed through her unbidden? Would he shun her bouts of insecurity, or dry her tears and tell her everything was alright? Would he brave the ridicule of others to have such a woman beside him as her?
With a growl, she shattered the glass with her fist, shards stinging her face and catching in her hair as she sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. It was so unfair! Why could she not be a creature fair of form as well as fair of heart? Why could not the beauty of her face match the beauty of her body?
She barely felt the warm blood flowing from her palm, mixing with the torrent of tears as she buried her face in her hands. It wasn't enough that she knew deep in her heart that he was not like the shallow creatures that had so often ridiculed her- no, it was a self-loathing that was seared deep into her psyche by those who cared not what the lasting damage of their abuse would be.
To be called disgusting.
To be mocked and scorned.
To have them step aside where she walked as if she were a leper.
To have parents tell their children that they wished them never to grow up like her.
All of this because her body refused to obey her bidding, refused to be perfect.
He must truly hate her, weak and piteous as she was, the illusion of the strong woman shattered by these moments of brokenness.
"Though we are broken, we can always be fixed- though we shatter, there is always someone there to pick up the pieces."
She felt his strong arms about her, enveloping her in his embrace, pulling her to him and laying her head on his chest. He stroked her hair as her trembled, the tears flowing unending.
"I am not worth-"
"Do NOT let me hear you say that! EVER!" He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look in his dark eyes, made even darker by sheer anger. "You think I think you are worth less than all these fake, ridiculous pantomimes of women who think they are better than you because of the color of their hair or size of their clothes! My gods, Lilith! You are worth more than all the models Paris can afford to tempt me with! It is they that are not worth half of what you have inside your heart!"
His face was a mask of fury and pain, one that frightened and shocked her- she had not thought that he'd be so harsh, that he felt so strongly. She suddenly felt shamed, lowering her eyes and sighing with the knowledge that she had hurt him so.
"I am so sorry," she murmured.
He lifted her chin, smiling. "You still have a lot to work through- the scars are still deep, I know, but know I will be here to heal them best as I can. You must trust me."
She felt so safe, so warm surrounded with his essence, her tears drying as he sang to her softly. He worried about her, worried incessantly that she would never see the beauty she truly was.
