Rhydian;
I don't hate many things instinctively… Contrary to what my past may have made people believe, that was never the truth.
Most of my anger is earned. Earned through years of watching people lie prettily, smile while sharpening knives, all while calling it diplomacy. I've learned the difference between dislike, irritation, and real hatred.
But this?
This is none of those. This is something deeper.
Something that crawls up my spine each time Alana enters a room.
She doesn't do anything wrong, and that's honestly the worst part.
She's polite, helpful, and soft-spoken as always.
She bows when she should, speaks when spoken to, and keeps her eyes lowered in the way people expect from a maid. She does the things she's always done, and yet every time she comes near me, my body reacts like it's bracing for a blow I can't see coming.
It makes my jaw lock… Makes my hands itch… Makes something sour and familiar coil in my gut.
