Bad Sister

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

For some reason I prefer the company of the cold night rather than that of a family I'm supposedly part of.

I wore my best dress, put on more make up than usual and even straightened my hair, but still, I feel it.

The emptiness.

I feel empty. Disposable.

Lost even.

And not even Randall's comforting hand could save me. Hell, the only comfort I get, the only sense of belonging I get, is from a conversation he and I had last night.

It drifts through my mind like the best memory I have. After all It's been a while since I've actually sat down and had a meal and got to know someone past the exterior.

Two years to be exact. But fuck that.

He's so different now than the first time we met. Like he exchanged the prideful bastard with a down to earth, understanding man. Although, he's still  cunning.

When I walk back into the Michaelson house, my heart does a little skip as i marvel at the interior. It's everything a girl can dream of; floor to ceiling windows, clean vertical tiles, enchanting paintings on canvas walls and low tables placed against them with jars of water and what I figure is whiskey.

A gut wrenching thought enters my mind and I choke. I imagine a little girl not older than six, with impressively long curly hair, running around the top floor to God knows where. She's like an angel dressed in a beautiful white ballroom dress that ends just above her knees. And like me, she has nude ballet flats to match.

I chuckle, my eyes stinging.

Mommy, mommy, she exclaims, giggling. Her voice is so sweet and soft, it tugs at my heart.

The instant she turns her head, I'm at a loss for words.

She's real and she's mine.

I start chase after her as she runs.

But just as I turn around, she's gone and I bump heads with Macy, a cold liquid immediately splashing onto my chest.

Macy screeches, distancing herself from the glass she has in hand. Shivers run down my spine as the liquid seeps through my dress.

I glance over her shoulder, praying I didn't lose the little girl.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry," comes Macy's rushed plummy voice. She uses her hand to dab and rub my chest.

It's only then, I relax my face and look at her. Her dark hair is pulled into a neat ponytail. Her face powered with light make and a bright red lipstick matched with a black and white midi cocktail dress.

My eyes drift over her shoulder and all I get is a bunch of stuck up men huddled together, plotting.

I grasp Macy's wrist before she gets any further and smile.

"Don't worry about it." I tell her.

Her face softens, a mix of confusion and despair filling her dark brown eyes. She takes a step closer, analysing my face.

"Come with me." She pulls my hand to a  room upstairs and before I know it, my favourite dress is on the bed, soaked in red wine.

I stand in front of the mirror and scrutinise the reflection that greets me back, trying to smile.

This is not me.

It's eerily quiet on this floor. I could stay here.

Or not.

Bored out of my mind I wander back to the east balcony on the first floor.

Not a moment later I spot Randall sneak into the barn with Fiona in hand. I try not to think too much of it. After all, it's not like I caught them sucking face a couple of days ago.