Prompt: Use the phrase “image hosting” as an inspiration for your piece.
Hilea stared into the dead girl's eyes for a moment. She could see every vein through the child's porcelain skin, she could see all the way into her skull - the smooth, pale, curvature - to the pink tissue of her brain.
The girl's lips were pursed - lightly tinged with the blue of cold and death. Hilea pursed her own lips and shut her eyes, smoothing her eyelids consciously. Behind her eyelids she could still see the girl - every detail magnified. The image filled her until Hilea could feel it rise and fall with her breathing - it fleshed out her body.
A light tingle ran over every inch of her skin as her body changed, shifted to fit the image that had blossomed inside her. As the tingle faded, Hilea opened her eyes. She hid the broken child's body - it would not do to have someone see identical girls together, one dead and one alive. And, though she knew it would be wiser, she could not bring herself to burn or bury the body without proper rites or at least some recognition.
Hilea walked away, leaving the little girl alone.