Owen did not spend much time mourning; he tied the knot again when I turned thirteen. Kendall relocated into our place, bringing her pale couches, costly shoes, and her tendency to label every single item inside our house as cheap or old-fashioned.
Eliana’s clay statues vanished from the fireplace shelf during the initial seven days. She referred to them as trash. The wall filled with household portraits was removed right after that. When I returned from my classes one afternoon, the heavy wooden eating table — the exact spot where I was taught my letters, where we decorated for Halloween, where we consumed all our festive dinners — was sitting outside by the street.
“Just updating the area,” Kendall remarked with a massive grin while she tossed a fresh cushion onto our newly purchased, high-priced couches. We suddenly possessed very polished decorations.
Owen asked me to remain calm. “She is simply attempting to make the place feel welcoming,” he explained. Yet it no longer felt like our safe place at all. It belonged entirely to her.
The initial moment Kendall laid eyes on Eliana’s gown, she scrunched up her face as though I had presented her with a lifeless animal.
This occurred the afternoon before the final school ceremony, and I was spinning around in front of the glass reflection, wearing the outfit.
“Riley, you cannot be genuine about this,” she muttered, gripping a cup of alcohol tightly. “You intend to put that on for the dance?”
I moved my head up and down, gripping the protective cover defensively. “It belonged to Eliana. I have forever wished to put it on.”
She lifted her brows and placed the cup onto the table with too much force. “Riley, that clothing is years out of date. You will appear as though you dragged it from a charity shop collection box.”
