And so it goes, hey? A little depressing, a little AU (for now), a little look on the inside of the glass...(Opal's fourteen or fifteen here; a little more cynical than we see her in Boffo, but this is what is supposed to happen to her. Effin' depressing, no?)
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She was bleeding this time; that worried her, almost. It didn't happen often, they were always too careful. But this time she was bleeding, little scratches on her arms weeping red. She sighed and rubbed at one of the scores, her mouth twisting to the side when her finger smeared red-brown across her skin.

Her parents had left, taking her little brother and sister with them. They'd gone 'out'. Opal absentmindedly licked her finger as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She hadn't cried much this time, but she still looked like a wreck, swollen and red. Not from bruises, no; they never hit her face. I look like shit. I feel like shit. That would lead to the obvious conclusion...that I am shit. Worthless. Her mouth twisted upwards again, a wry parody of a smile.

She carefully cleaned the scratches and applied bandaids; they would heal in a day or so, shallow as they were. No scars. There'd never been any visible scars. Just bruises and once, a fractured wrist. That had healed in a day or two, too. Her father was a doctor- he knew a fracture when he saw one. It was almost worth the pain to see the confusion on his face when she was fine a few days later.

She wasn't sure what hurt more; the pain that went with a broken her wrist, or the fact that he hadn't been sorry afterwards. His surprise at her swift healing had transmuted into more anger, more fear, more pain. She finished her bandaging and pulled down the sleeves of her bulky sweater. Tyler had teased her about it, claiming she was made of ice (for more reasons than one); he didn't know that her thin skin was only half the reason for her concealing clothing. She didn't want questions or stares. She certainly didn't want pity, thick and syrupy and saccharine sweet from everyone at school.

Tyler, of course, would only be angry. He'd go on a tirade, she was sure of it. And he would confront her parents and demand that they stop, and then he'd tell his father, who would go to the police and then social workers would come and take her away and her parents would almost certainly end up in jail, and then where would she be? Lost. In some foster home somewhere. And Jamie and Mike would be just as lost, and they'd hate me even more than they do now for taking mom and dad away from them.

In a way, she was lucky. Her parents didn't hit her to leave scars, or anywhere that would show. She could easily keep it a secret forever; bruises faded, and she never bled much. She would never have to deal with the stares and the pity.

Opal washed her face, cleansing away the last traces of abuse from sight and smiled at the mirror. It smiled back, cheerful and innocent; there were still dark circles under her eyes.
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Yes, her parents are assholes, and yes, she's got a little brother and a little sister. (Of course, *spoiler*they aren't really related*spoiler*.) Her foster family situation gets explained a little bit later; basically, everything gets blamed on Shateiel, who apologizes profusesly for the rest of eternity. (Opal actually finds this amusing.)
So, yeah, slightly AU to the story that's actually posted; Opal's got a lot of nasty stuff in her background that I just didn't address in Boffo as it is; this and the Cara/Jance dynamic would be things that would get changed in the rewrite (I talk about this as though I were actually going to do it, isn't that amusing?). Whew, that was depressing.