The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns across the vanity mirror. The light filtering through woke Clara up as soon as they graced her face. She opened her sleepy eyes and then got out of bed groggily, shuffling toward her vanity mirror. Subconsciously, she was still basking in the satisfaction of yesterday's transformation. But the moment her eyes landed on the reflection, a bone-chilling scream tore through the room.
"No… no, no, no!"
Clara's trembling fingers reached up, touching the face staring back at her. This was bad! What the hell was that? Her face was creased, sunken, and impossibly worse than before. Deep lines carved down her cheeks, her under-eyes looked puffy and dark, and her lips had shrivelled like dried fruit. Her skin had the texture of worn parchment, even her hair looked thinner, greyer.
"T-his… this can't be happening!" she rasped.
