Red_Roses_and_Black_Dahlias_-_Macy_T

“I hate that fucking name, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!” I cried.
But I didn’t hate it. Not really.
Or at least I had gotten used to it since it had been mine for the last six
years. The thing about it was that it wasn’t my real name. And it represented
my whole identity having been stolen, no, snatched away from me by force.
So yes. In a way, I resented it. I hated what it represented. I resented that
it wasn’t mine. That it wasn’t the name mama had given me.
When a few minutes passed and my tears relented a bit, I finally gathered
the courage to look up. Maddox’ mouth was hanging open and he looked at
me like he didn’t know me.
I guess he didn’t, in a way.
“Who are you?” He breathed.
I probably looked insane. Mascara running down my cheeks, hair matted
to my sweaty forehead, fists balled out so tightly my nails were probably
drawing blood inside my palms.
“I’m my sister’s keeper.” Was all I could mutter, the only words I thought
could explain my actions.
None of us spoke. The sound of our erratic breaths was the only thing you
could hear inside this room. Eventually, Maddox broke the silence.
“Sit down and start speaking.” His tone was less cutting than earlier, but
it was still nothing like its usual warmth.
Swallowing down my pride, I fell back on the sofa.
“Can you bring me my treasure box? I swear I won’t be moving from
here. You got me surrounded, anyway.”