Wingless and Beautiful

1. Escape

Note: This book does not intend to body shame, demean, or target anyone. It's told from the perspective of someone who's been bullied because of her body shape. My intention is not to hurt or offend, but to shed light on how cruel societal standards can be. I have personally experienced the agony of being compared to others, and I am staunchly opposed to it. Every person carries their own unique beauty, and that deserves to be celebrated. Please remember: this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Enjoy the journey. <3

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Ximara Lyris Adler peered into the broken mirror in her bedroom. Her reflection was fractured like a dream falling apart under pressure. The tight dress her mother had chosen for her hugged every curve of her body, with seams straining at her hips and chest. She tugged on the fabric, her fingers trembling in frustration.

This wasn't just another night at her parents' house. This was a reckoning.

Voices came floating up through the floorboards from downstairs: her mother, Carin, bartering with a wealthy gray-haired suitor, whose hungry gaze had made Ximara's skin crawl earlier that afternoon. Her father Ryan laughed as well, a forced laugh, bartering her future like livestock at an auction.

"You're lucky he'll take you, looking like that," Carin had sneered earlier, her words slicing deeper than any blade.

Ximara's jaws tightened. She clutched the crumpled paper in her hand, a sketch of soaring walls and open windows, a building she envisioned as her sanctuary. Her designs had always been her rebellion against their cruelty, her shield against the world's impossible standards. But sketches were no longer enough.

Tonight, she planned to act.

With a deep breath, she grabbed her duffel bag from the closet. She moved fast, heart pounding, stuffing clothes, papers, and her sketchbook of dreams into the bag. The zipper grated loudly in the stillness.

She glanced at the window. The humid North Carolina night pressed against the glass, as though urging her to step through. She pushed the sash open, swung one leg over the sill, and dropped softly onto the damp grass below.

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Carin sat stiffly on the floral sofa, facing Remus Hargrove. His silver hair glistened under the chandelier as he sipped his bourbon, his thin lips curling into a smirk.

"She's got a good head on her shoulders," Carin said sweetly, her voice concealing steel. "Also talented. She has an incredible talent for drawing building interiors. She'd make an excellent wife, keeping your home in order and providing you with a family."

Remus's gaze sharpened. "I'm sure she's... nice," he said slowly, the condescension dripping from his voice. "A sturdy girl like that ought to hold up well."

Ryan forced a laugh, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "She's a gem, alright. "She just needs the right man to polish her up."

Carin's smile thinned. To her, Ximara's body was not her daughter's to own; it was a problem to be solved, a bargaining chip for comfort and silence from the neighbors.

When she rushed upstairs to get her daughter, her heels clicked like gunfire on the hardwood. She shoved the bedroom door open.