Penny stared at the girl in the mirror.

The girl had green eyes and carrot colored hair. She had pale skin and freckles and a small pointed nose. The light pink lips that were usually curled up into a smile weren't today, but even now Penny could tell this girl was pleasing to the eye. She was cute. Adorable. Human.

You are not a real girl.

Her clothes weren't the most fashionable things, but she wore them well. They were dull colored with hints of vibrant green. At the dance she wore a light lime dress and nice shoes. She felt light and pretty and people smiled at her and she smiled back. An ever-present pink bow adorned her head, a gift she would never part with.

You are not a real girl.

She wore makeup, on occasion. She painted her nails different colors and drew playful designs on them. She powdered her face and put on eyeliner and lipstick and laughed at how silly she looked and secretly liked how it made her look like an adult.

You are not a real girl.

The girl had a father. He was old and short, with bad eyes and a bald head. Everyone called him doctor, but he insisted she call him father. He was very well respected and important people from all parts of the city came to his lab to see what he was working on. The girl loved him very much.

You are not a real girl.

She had friends. Weiss, who was so, so pretty. Yang, a funny girl if a bit rude. Blake, who was a faunus and looked a little bit like a boy. Ruby Rose. Ruby Rose, the friend who knew and didn't care.

You are not a real girl.

Everyone else cared.

You are not a real girl.

The girl in the mirror was a fiction. A fabrication. A lie.

You are not a real girl.

A lie she was telling to the whole world.

You are not a real girl.

A lie she was telling to herself.

You are not a real girl.

The glass shattered under Penny's fist. It cut through the girl's skin, revealing the truth underneath. She ripped at the lie with her painted fingernails, screaming in anger. A freckled face gave way to dull steel. Orange locks were yanked from their roots. A tattered pink thing fell to the floor. Shreds of a dress followed soon after.

Strong hands grabbed her arms and tried to stop her, but they were too weak. Too human. Too real. More hands grabbed her and dragged her away. They were yelling, but Penny didn't hear them. Only the same words repeated again and again.

You are not a real girl.

You are not a real girl.

You are not a real girl.