She was plagued with a strange disease. No matter how her doctor assured her that there was nothing wrong with her body, she was not convinced. She believed she was ravaged by a fatal, incurable disease.
Her skin was getting paler by the day. That, everyone noticed. At first, watching her tanned skin brightened brought her immense joy. She never liked her skin tone after all; what she yearned for was the pale, pearl-like skin of the girl-next-door.
Whatever its cause was, that bizarre phenomenon, should have stopped when her skin reached her ideal. Still, it kept getting paler and paler until the color of her skin was no different than that of a paper sheet.
Her doctor believed that was her genuine complexion despite her otherwise explanation.
She almost knew despair.
One morning she woke up to her mother’s yelling. Perplexed, she asked her what was going on and only received a look of utmost terror. When she looked at her body, she immediately understood.
Her entire body had turned transparent. She had become invisible to every people’s eyes and her own.
People tried to talk to her, tried to remember her existence. Nevertheless, it was too difficult. Not long after she turned invisible, her voice, her only means to be known, turned mute to people’s ears. Soon, even her own kin believed in her none-existence.
She could not stand this. Too much. She was right in front of them, shouting to their faces. Nobody heard. She knew she lived. She knew she existed. It was just… everyone else did not.
Her death was the last irony. Despite her whole being was transparent, her blood came out vividly red.
People’s eyes widened at the sight of bright red liquid flowing in tortuous trails on the pristine white floor. No one knew what it was. No one cared to investigate. Before long, the janitor came to clean it up.