T R I C I A
"Never," I choked out, my throat raw. "I would rather die."
"Death is too good for you, my dear," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "You know, one thing I've always been proud that you got from me is your resilience. It's a shame you're using it for the wrong reasons."
I closed my eyes, trying to block her out, but her words were like acid, burning into my brain. I hated her. I hated her with every fiber of my being. I hated her for never being a mother to me, I hated her for always being my tormentor. I hated her for making me this. For making me into her.
And I also hated myself. For being weak. For being so desperate that I had to resort to this. For being a killer. For being a monster.
I was losing consciousness. The pain was too much. My body was shutting down.
