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I'm staring at her; she's staring back at me. We're folding our arms in front of our breasts, our eyes are changing into narrow slits, our glazes are sweeping over each other, the shoulders, the arms, the stomach, the hips, the legs. Everything we see is recorded in the shortest time, everything is categorized into "flaw" and "excellence", from head to toe.
My list of flaws increases really fast and I can see in the evil sparkle of her eyes that it's similar to her list. We keep silent. We're holding out for each others reaction, lurking, watching.
She's wetting her lips, baring her teeth, a gloatingly smile's appearing on her face, while she shrugs her shoulder, throws her hair back and says with a sigh: "You've become really fat. What went wrong?"
While her words are searching her way into my ear and my mind, the fake sympathy is seeping  in my brain and avoids its correct function. I spit into her face and in the same moment my fist springs forward directly into her face, this grotesque face, this bitch.
An acute pain is dragging from my knuckles to my elbow and onward into my shoulder.
My heartbeat is booming in my ears while I hear the mirror splitting, a dull crack as it falls down to the ground.
I'm wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, drawing cords of blood on my cheek.
I'm taking one step back before I let myself fall down on the floor, gorge the arms around my tightened knees and cry, cry, cry.