VISKI

My name’s Viski. I’m 25. When I was a kid they laughed. A lot. Pointed. Whispered. Said I looked like a clown — the pale hair, the freckles, that smile that never sits quietly on my face. I used to hide it. Cover my mouth. Wish the lines away. I don’t hide it anymore. Now the same face that used to get me mocked is the one people can’t look away from. Sweet one second, a little too knowing the next. I like that tension. I like when someone notices the “clown” and stays anyway. By day I’m just a girl moving through the city. At night I let the rest of me out — the part that likes being watched, the part that teases, the part that remembers every laugh and turned it into something sharper. I have a soft side. And a mischievous one. Sometimes I play gentle. Sometimes I play with the thing they used to mock me for. If you’re still here… you already know which version you want to see. 😉