She'd peer into a pond in the forest, far away from prying eyes and from influencing parties. Her reflection looked like a broken tea pot - once pretty and full of joyous colors but now only holding a memory and a forgotten song. Her boiling whistle would be reduced to a sad cry for help and her handle would be jagged and snapped - not wanting to hurt anyone but not being able to help it. The reflection would be turned up in a shy smile as if trying to convince herself that she is happy, just like as an abused dog tries to put on a brave face in the mention of danger or something new.
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Had to write how a reflection of our character would look using similies and metaphors. I decided to use Jessica.
I know I havenāt mentioned Jessica, but hopefully some chapters will come soon. Iām finally starting to bring her story into fruition.