𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐭.
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For five years, Evelyn turned up missing. Locked at the bottom of an endless void of water in a metal safe. Trapped in a coma of her own. Though she returns, nothi...
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Lilly's bathroom door opens, her wiping her mouth, as I sit on the chest at the end of her bed, leaning back with one leg crossed over the other, my foot bouncing.
She startles as she notices me. "Hello, love." I smile.
"Wh—" She looks at the window. "Did you come in through the window?" She walks over to it and shuts it, latching the lock.
I place both feet on the ground, moving my hands to the edge of the chest, beside my thighs. "I have this thing called a husband that would definitely lock me away if he knew where I was going." I smile innocently at her.
"Well, I'm not ready." She shrugs her shoulders.
I stand up. "That is why you have me." I hold my hands out in the air, my elbows to my sides. "Now, come on."
I'm already dressed and ready in a black shirt, the shoulders of the sleeves poofy, tucked into a black leather skirt, one side overlapping the other. My feet are wearing a pair of black heels with an ankle strap and a thicker strap wrapping over my toes. My hair is curled, Elena offering to do it. I did minimal makeup and covered any bruises I might have had.
We enter her closet and I scan her dresses. The hangers scrape against the metal rod as I slide them down, out of the way. "I don't want to wear a dress."
I spin to her and nod. I move to her shirts and try to find something. I do the same thing, the sound of plastic against metal filling the room. I pick out a grey, sparkly top and a green, lacey one.
I show them to her and she picks the green. "Great choice." I scrunch my face. We go through her pants and find a pair of black skinny jeans. She grabs a pair of black Doc Martens before she walks out and goes to the bathroom to change.
As I wait, I look around her room. There's a new book in her nook and I look on her shelf, noticing new copies.
Her shelves are overcrowded, but I'm caught on the pictures. Pictures where we were happy, even for a limited time.
I hear the bathroom door open, but I don't move my gaze. "Oh, that's my mom." She says with a smile. "In a way, you kind of look like her." I am her.
"Tell me about her." I blurt. "Your mom."
"You actually want to know?" She asks, shocked.
My brows scrunch together. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Most people don't like when I talk about her." I look back at the picture of me and her. "She was infamous, and because she was my mom, people believed I'd turn out just like her. The villain in everyone's tales." My head snaps to hers. "But, despite her reputation, she was nothing but nice to me. She saved me. Even though she's not my biological mom, she was more of a mother than my real one." A small smile plays on her lips.
"What happened to her?" I risk asking.
She looks at me. "To be honest, no one knows. She was there one day, gone the next. A year later, my aunt left and we moved. My dad had found a job in New York, but we moved around a lot because of it.
