-Lara-
“Lara?” My sister called for me from the bedroom where I was staying.
“In here,” I replied.
I was in the bathroom, examining myself in the mirror. I still hadn’t had a chance to take the shower I desperately needed. Instead, I was staring at the bruises lingering on my skin. It felt strange. While my father was a tyrant, he had never laid a hand on us. We lived protected lives. Seeing those bruises from the queen was just strange to watch.
“There you are,” she said, appearing in the bathroom doorway.
She was holding her daughter, who was fascinated by her long blond hair. Dressed in a white summer dress, she looked like she had come straight from a fashion magazine.
“You look awful,” she said.
“Thank you. You look good too,” I replied sarcastically, turning on the water.
I
