Jane gently glided her nails across her face feeling for pimples. Once a small, fleshy hill caught under her nail, she picked. She picked until blood and puss oozed under her nail beds, then glided her nails across her skin looking for more. The cold air seeped into the open wounds on her face as she sighed at her image in the mirror. Such an ugly and plain girl. All she ever did was go to work and come home and pick her face.