Page 150 of The Sinner: James

Deftly, I paint my lips with a dark shade of red and coat my lashes with several layers of mascara. Watching Daria doing it for so many years finally pays off.

I do a double-take, studying my reflection.

It’s been some time since I’ve worn anything remotely elegant.

The woman glancing back at me looks like a stranger.

She’s beautiful and confident—the opposite of how I feel.

I run my hands down the skirt and clasp my fingers on my hips.

Narrowing my eyes, I ponder.

What if I could turn into that confident woman for a day, an evening, or perhaps an hour?

Quirking my lips, I examine my reflection.

What would that woman do if she were me?

If she only had fifty bucks to spare and no one to ask for help?

If she felt brittle inside and hadn’t seen herself reflected in a man’s eyes in a long time?

How would she handle herself? Or face this crap called life?

Ripping a page out of Daria’s book, I arch an eyebrow and press my lips together, rehearsing a sultry look and a flirting smile as if I were her… The woman in the mirror.

Self-assured.

Empowered.

For one, she wouldn’t ask for help. That’s for sure.

She’d know nobody could give her what she wanted, so she’d have to get it alone.

She’d take care of herself and never act out of fear or weakness.

She’d cherish her strength.

She’d never wait or ask and always fight and own.

And last but not least, she’d never hold her head down and live like a hermit.

She’d cherish the longing inside her body.

And she’d go out and test her power.

Hmm.

Test my power.

I can surely do that and find out if what I see in the mirror is what other people see too.

I walk back to the closet and retrieve a black wool cloak from a garment bag with red silk lining. It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, and I got it a few years back, and I never had the chance to wear it because of Daria’s big mouth.

She couldn’t stop poking fun at me, saying it made me look like a princess. I loathed her words so much I didn’t want to give her another reason to run her mouth again.

I drape it over my shoulders and pull the hood over my blonde hair, the red silk lining matching my lips.

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