She looked at herself in the mirror as she painted her face with makeup. It chilled her to see that there was no happiness in her eyes anymore, only guilt, and a kind of determination.
She thought about the things she had done to get to where she was today, and realised that it wasn't really much higher than the place she was before.
The only real difference now was the fact that she was socially popular. She supposed that she was popular, in a way, before everything got as twisted as this.
Her blonde hair curled across her shoulders as it dried naturally, and she continued getting ready for another day of social politics. There was an impatient knock on the door.
"Come on Isabelle! You've been in there for over half an hour! Stop thinking about yourself and let someone else use the damn bathroom."
The angry words sailed beneath the wooden barrier between her and her brother. She sighed, and unlocked the door, standing aside as Michael stormed past and headed straight for the sink.
They hardly spoke these days, and she regretted that. But, she was too far gone to make amends now; and she wasn't going to admit she was in the wrong. Caitlyn would go mad, and it was Caitlyn who had made her everything she was now.
Michael had refused to talk to her , since she had started dating Evan. He had said she was stupid to even consider it, and that Caitlyn was poisoning her mind.
He'd got really angry that day, and she'd thought for a moment that he would hit her. But thankfully, he had managed to calm enough to decide not to acknowledge her existance as long as she was dating Evan, and as long as she was friends with Caitlyn.
She put the finishing touches to her foundation, and started to apply her mascara. In the background, Michael finished in the bathroom and stomped downstairs.
She waited exactly four minutes, and listened as the door slammed and he left the house.
Briefly, she considered ringing Caitlyn, telling her where to stick her 'dictatorship', and then refusing to go to school. But with a little more consideration, Isabelle realised that this was easier said than done.
She wasn't ready to face that particular fall from grace just yet. She'd be a laughing stock; Michael would be unbearable with the 'I-told-you-so's' and Caitlyn would make her life a living hell.
Not to mention all the withering looks from Evans' conquests.
She wiped a single tear from her cheek, and ran down the stairs without pausing to say goodbye.
This is what I wanted She thought. I'm going to have to live with it.