The weight of perfection

I sat alone in the dimly lit basement, my skin shimmering with cold sweat. The air was thick with tension as I stared at the small, pale figure on the folding chair. Her body, though slender, seemed to betray a silent struggle beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. With trembling hands, I pulled apart her labia, revealing glistening membranes that shimmered in the sterile glow. My heart raced as I realized the truth: she was bled. The clear fluid seeped from her most intimate place, a consequence of her relentless pursuit of perfection, now taking root within her fragile body.