That thought… scared her.
Because it wasn't her. Ivvy wasn't like that. She didn't want to be like that. Her mother had taught her forgiveness and compassion, and that's why these feelings were new to her.
But the pain was so great, so absolute, that the lines between what was right and her hatred were beginning to blur.
"No… you can't let this change you."
She hugged herself, her nails digging into the skin of her arms, trying to contain the trembling. She closed her eyes. She tried to remember her mother's voice. The smell of the flowers when they first bloomed. The soft spring breeze on the rooftop. The gentle song of the petals opening at dawn.
But all of that was being overshadowed by an internal murmur. A voice that came directly to threaten her mentality, a broken part. That screamed: "Make her pay."
