Welcome back to a new Thursday Fiction. We continue where we left of last week, following Isabelle as she figure out who she really is.
And then the pompom and the canva, it was either a waste of time because she was too old for it, or it wasn't the right color or the pompom weren't strong enough for a caterpillar. There was always something to be done wrong and Isabelle was sure to fall for it. Why would anything ever be different?
“Because she is a psycho manipulative bitch and you hate her,” Isabelle said looking at herself in the mirror.
It was the first time the words were formulated out loud but it was time to stop the self pity. I wouldn't take her anywhere.
“I hate her,” she repeated and she felt a little part of her break. It was unnatural. To hate your own mother but what else could she do. There had to be a part of her that loved her but she couldn't hold onto that part anymore. It only hurt her. Maybe it was easier to admit it and to run away.
“I hate her,” she repeated again and it sounded like a promise, like a super power building inside of her. She didn't need to be afraid, she didn't need to do what she was told anymore.
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