Lydia's Point Of View
"She deserves to be in only one place…" I leaned closer to my reflection, staring straight into my own eyes.
And finally, the words slid out. Slow. Satisfied. Certain.
" Beneath me. Under my foot, serving me as she used to."
I was still shaking.
Not the kind that fades. Not the kind you breathe through and pretend didn't happen. This one stayed. Sat inside my bones like poison. My fingers were still curled, nails digging into my palms like I was trying to hold something together that had already cracked open.
"She's a stain," I muttered, pacing again, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My voice sounded strange in the quiet room. Too loud. Too thin.
"A stain on this family."
I dragged my hand across my face, exhaling sharply, but it didn't help. Nothing helped. The anger wasn't cooling. It was spreading. Slow and hot, crawling under my skin.
"And she always will be."
I stopped pacing.
The words hung there, heavy.
Rejected.
