The last reflection

In the dimly lit abandon building, the youngest Victoria stood before a shattered window, her wet hair clinging to her skin as raindrops slid down her face. The semi-transparent white button-up shirt clung to her curves, revealing her massive, sagging tits that strained against the fabric. Her dark brown long straight hair cascaded down her back, while her skinny waist was accentuated by the tight, pinstriped skirt that seemed seconds away from tearing at the seams. Around her neck, she wore shiny pearls, but her medium to dark brown stockings only added to the somber mood. The room inside was empty, yet the air was thick with emotional charge. She felt exhausted, her bulging chest heaving as if carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. The blouse she wore was torn, the buttons strained against her curves, leaving her cleavage Bruised and raw. Outside, the night was silent, the world around her seemingly forgotten, as she faced her fate alone.