Crissy checked herself over in the mirror. Her hair had been straightened into submission, and she'd done her makeup just how Martha had directed.
The dress was Martha's too. It fit very well – everything of Martha's fit her very well. It made it easier to stay friends when they could share so much. It made it easier to keep Martha safe, and Martha's safety was Crissy's reason for being – the only thing that filled, mostly, the emptiness inside her. But couldn't they still share more? Wouldn't it be easier to protect her if she could become her? Lately, she wondered.