I didn’t rush things. There was no reason to. Chaos belonged to people who had lost control. I hadn’t. I sat in front of the mirror, the room quiet around me, the sun rays spilling in from the windows just enough to illuminate the room and highlight every detail of my reflection. I studied my face the way an artist would study a blank canvas. Not with emotion, but with intent. The makeup brushes were already laid out on the vanity in front of me, aligned, clean, and precise. I picked one up, slow and careful. Then I began. A shadow beneath my left eye first—subtle, uneven, layered carefully until it resembled something organic. Not something dramatic, not something theatrical, but something believable. Good. As an actress, these skills came in handy. I tilted my head slightly, assessing the black eye I had just created. Then I moved to my cheekbone— a faint discoloration, soft blending. Enough to suggest impact, not exaggeration. I leaned in closer, narrowing
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