Blaze
Sometimes when I dress up for these parties, I don't even recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror. No, that's a lie; I do recognize myself, but the me I see is the one who let everyone else control her life. It's the sixteen-year-old girl who was being groomed to marry a rich man and become a society maven. If I close my eyes and think hard, I can still see her. With her platinum blonde hair, wearing her pearls like a southern debutante does, clear eyes innocent as hell only wanting to please her parents.
I can remember her very clearly. She wore pink lipstick and looked at men underneath long eye-lashes, and she giggled when a boy with proper family lineage would pay attention to her. Daphne would shrink into the crowd, smile prettily, curtsy, and be the envy of eve
