There’s a scar on the right side of her face where the crease of her lips stops and her rose colored cheeks begin. That white line stands out on her beautiful face like a crack on a porcelain doll. Her almost perfect figure is defected by one simple flaw. From the left, she’s a hurricane of pure beauty and the epitome of happiness, but the right paints a fragile figurine ready to break at the slightest of touch. If you ask, she will gingerly laugh and tell you “from the edges of the Popsicles she ate as a kid,” or that she was “once so happy she smiled until her mouth broke.” But for a tiny moment between the question and the answer you might just catch a glimpse of fear in her eyes.