3 Hours in the city. 2 sisters. 1 chance. 0 room for secrets...right? A dystopian story. |
"Now why in the name of the British monarchy would you ask such a thing?" Lucia starts into me as soon as the door shuts behind Father. "I just wanted to know! Is that a problem?" I demand. Eudora's blue eyes bounce back and forth between us, waiting for a blow-up fight. We haven't fought in a long time, since it's so rare that we even disagree, and when we do, I usually concede. It’s easier that way. “No, it’s not a problem, per se, but you’re giving him too much control over your life. What about your passions? Why don’t you research those instead of asking him what to direct your mind to? Think for yourself, Aurora!” I slam my chair into the table. Something about what she said just eats at me. It’s unfair how she could be so condescending. “You aren’t even my sister. Don’t tell me what to do.” I hiss, before turning and leaving. I don’t even make it to the door before I hear Dora start to sniffle. She hates when we fight, as occasional as it is. I don’t turn around. I close the door to my room behind me, slumping on the bed and groaning. I can’t believe I said that. What was I thinking? |