Behind the painted smile

"You guys are going to make me kill myself."

That caught my attention. I was shocked and horrified at the words. I looked at her with stunned silence. I know it seemed so ass backwards. This woman has been beating on me for five years at that point, and she's saying she could put a stop to the trauma- permanently, and I was feeling sorry for her.

But looking back now, I realized that "sadness" was performative grief.

"She's talking about you. You are going to make her kill herself," my sister doubled down.

In that moment, the quiet thing festering inside me could no longer be contained. Hurt and anger collapsed into something darker, something unfamiliar.

Hatred.

Resentment.