Two beautiful green eyes were staring at her from the mirror, eyes sodden with sadness. In these eyes the sadness always, even in the merriest moments, somehow managed to crawl in and take its proper place. And the present moment wasn’t a merry one at all – she had realized she was head over ears in love.
Yes, for Belinda the infatuation meant only more and more sufferings, because she knew pretty well that no one would marry a woman like her. Thirty three years old already, she had never had sex and probably would never will. Belinda examined with disgust the nice features of her face – the delicately rounded cheeks, the lush lips, the volitional chin and the childish, slightly snub nose. She did not want to be pretty; she wanted to have a face of a witch. Because then the things would not have gone that far. Maybe.
She dug her nails in her pale cheek and burst into tears, then grated her teeth angrily, clenched her fists and started punching her crippled left leg.
When she was three ...