There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

Mara shakes her head, wanting to object, but I speak too quickly, determined
to tell her everything before she can interrupt.
“She hoped I wasn’t like them. She hoped I was kind, like her. But I was
already cold and arrogant, and too young to know better than to tell the truth.
I told her how little worth I saw in the people who scrubbed our toilets,
cleaned our house. I told her how our gardener disgusted me because he was
stupid and could barely read, while I was already finishing entire novels. I
could see that I was smarter than other people, richer, better looking. At four
years old, I was already a little monster.”
“You were a child,” Mara says.
“That’s what she thought, too. She bought me a rabbit. A large gray one. She
named him Shadow, because I didn’t care to give him a name. I hated that
rabbit. I hadn’t learned how to use my hands and my voice yet. I was clumsy
with it, and it bit and scratched me. I couldn’t soothe it like my mother did,
and I didn’t want to. I hated the time I had to spend feeding it and cleaning
out its disgusting hutch.”
Mara opens her mouth to speak again. I bowl over her, my lungs full of all
this fresh, green air, but the words coming out dead and twisted, falling flat
between us.
“I took care of that rabbit for three months. I loathed every minute of it. I
neglected it when I could, and only fed and watered it when she reminded
me. The way it loved her and the way it hated me made me furious. I was
even more angry when I’d see the disappointment in her eyes. I wanted to
please her. But I couldn’t change how I felt.”
Now I have to pause because my face is hot and I can no longer look at Mara.
I don’t want to tell her what happened next, but I’m compelled. She needs to
understand this.
“One morning, we went down to the hutch and the rabbit’s neck was broken.
It was laying there, dead and twisted, flies already settling on its eyes. My
mother could see it had been killed. She didn’t chastise me … there was no
point anymore. Looking in my eyes, she saw nothing but darkness. She hung
herself that afternoon. Years later, I read the last entry in her journal: I can’t
change him. He’s just like them.”