| " |
The day was supposed to be special, her sixteenth birthday. Yet all Cream could think about was how nothing had changed. She was stuck, seeing the same people, living the same life, and with a body that was as barren as the day she wore her first training bra. She bleakly looked up at a photograph of her mother, the fertile goddess that raised her countless brothers and sisters. She would never admit it, but she craved her mothers curves more than air. She lusted for a pair of Greenhill zones to call her own. Cream wanted the courage, the confidence her mother seemed to have with her day-to-day life. She wished to be the one with her rear wedged in chairs; with a rack so large they would give Rouge reason to blush. But the day came and went without a change. A child's party, with childish gifts, and all she could do was grin and bare it. "It's... not fair." She murmured to herself, tears forming in her eyes. |
| " | all she could do was grin and bare it |
