Still wondering about the 'foundation', I sit there quietly. I did not ask her about the maku-up anymore but I was definitely still wondering about it. I really needed to talk to Nikki and see if she knows anything about that type of foundation, and if she has ever used it before.
I decided to let her do the rest of her work on my face in silence. It was not worth annoying her for, and I was quickly losing interest in it anyway.
As Bethany continued to do her administration on my poor face, it felt like my face started to feel heavier and heavier, with the amount of make-up she was putting on my face.
I am not sure how much more my face can hold before my skin starts to droop down from the weight. No wonder women who wear a lot of make-up always seem to start wrinkling before those women that do not wear any.
But, strangely, my face started to feel more relaxed. Heavy but relaxed.
The tension in my face felt as if it was loosening up. The tension that seemed to always be there from the constant backhands that landed on it, was now starting to go away. Also the constant pain or ache that is there in my cheeks and along my jawbone, was starting to fade away. It was almost as if my face was starting to heal on its own.
I must really be going crazy now!
How can my face start to heal up on its own without assistance?
And how can the pain start to be alleviated without taking any pain medicine?
I took a closer look at all of Bethany's make-up, which is now in a scattered mess all around her vanity.
I have never heard of any make-up that could help heal someone but still I was discreetly checking all the labels and trying to see the ingredients without Bethany noticing. I was trying to see if any of the make-up products had medicinal herbs in the ingredients, which are known for natural healing remedies.
Apparently, I was not doing as discreet a job at it as I thought that I was, because I was shocked back to the present by Bethany's squeaky voice.
"What are you doing retard? You are moving all around, and I cannot paint a moving canvas. Sit still! Stop moving and let me finish. I swear, you can never do anything right."
"Oh, ok. Sorry." I whispered back.
After a few more minutes, Bethany turned me in the chair, waving her hand in front of my face while making the most disgusting face manageable, stating "well that's the best I can do with that. Hopefully it will be enough! Only so much make-up can hide ugly and pathetic!"
She abruptly turned my chair the other direction and started pulling and yanking on my hair. I know better than to cry or complain so I just set there gritting my teeth through the torture.
"Surprisingly, my shampoo and conditioner worked wonders in your hair. It shouldn't be so hard to put into a simple braid. It couldn't do anything about how dull it looks though."
Well, I guess that was something.
It wasn't a complete complement but not a complete insult either. That was something new. I do not remember ever being there when Bethany gave me anything resembling a compliment.
I tried not to move too much, although it seemed like Bethany was pulling and tugging on my hair a little more than needed. It was hard to stay still when I am constantly being tugged from one direction to the other.
I have had my hair braided before and know for a fact that you do not need to pull and yank that much to make a perfect braid. Bethany was enjoying inflicting pain to my scalp. It seemed like Bethany was making it her mission to pull my hair as tightly into the braid as humanly possible.
Once the braid was done she also put a few bobby-pins in my hair to try and tame any of the fly always that would not stay down in the braid, even with as tight as the braid was.
I glanced around Bethany's room, while I tried to maintain at least somewhat still. In all my 17 years I have never stepped foot into her room before. It is sad really, you would think siblings would play together in each other's rooms, but not us. I was never allowed to even come near Bethany's room, even as a little girl.
As I was younger it was mom that kept me from going into her room, then as we got older Bethany made sure I never entered.
So, curiosity got to me. Her room was much larger than mine. Where my room was barely big enough for my twin bed and dresser set. Bethany's room had a ton of furniture and still plenty of room to move around in. She had all matching furniture, in a beautiful rustic whitewash color. Her bed was a giant four poster king size bed that was covered in a rumpled pastel purple bed set. On her wall next to her bed was a large collage board, with a ton of photos on it.
I could see her posing with friends, some I recognized from either school, the clinic, or even by passing when they were over here. Bethany was five years older than me so many of them were also older than me too, so I didn't recognize most of them.
There were also a few family photos, all of which were strangely missing me. I was not in a single family photo she had hanging up.
And that's not even sarcasm!
A few of the photos I distinctly remember being in, the ones where we had to appear like a loving family. I even had copies of a few of the photos where I was still in the picture, but I had been cut out of all of her copies.
Wow!