MYLAH
Mylah stormed across the hallway of the packhouse, opened her bedroom door, slammed it shut, and then threw herself on the bed, a bottle of vodka in her hand.
“f**k!” she yelled, punching her mattress, anger making her blood steam and bubble.
She’d thought that, by giving her sister that potion the night before their eighteenth birthday, she’d solved all of her problems. Mylah had always hated Meghan, ever since they’d come out of their mother’s womb.
Meghan looked exactly like their mother, it was because of her face that their grief-stricken father had abandoned them to his parents. And that was where her problems had started.
For all their life, Meghan had been the golden child and her, Mylah, the ghost. She sister was amazing, both in school and on the training field, a risi
