Trixie was in a room in her mindscape looking at another version of herself. She was so far from this version that she couldn't even remember her name anymore- but somehow she could still feel the ghost of stress and tension that emanated off of her. Trixie could almost remember the crushing weight of having too many thoughts- the kind that would make a girl frown and give her wrinkles. (Not a problem that Trixie herself had, fortunately.)

She felt so sorry for this version of herself that when her hypnotist asked her to destroy it, it felt like giving mercy. She looked one more time at the weak, fragile figure in front of her. Then she walked over and gently poked it with her finger.

It shattered like glass.

Trixie smiled as she felt something inside her flicker and fade.

Now nothing would get in the way of her being a truly good girl.