The Wrong Daughter

by Dandy Smith

She’s a little self-conscious now and thinks about skating back to Flynn but the way he watches her, as though she is a mystical creature, gives her a thrill which is so much better than the consuming loneliness she has been swallowed by, trapped inside of, for weeks. So she chases that thrill, sweeping in more powerful circles.

belligerent,

She wonders what it would be like to have parents. A solid, complete family unit.

Just for a moment, she is untethered, floating away from her life with Heath, and being swept into another. One of coffee shop dates and uncomplicated kisses.

His eyes travel slowly down to her lips and her skin warms in response, as though she is basking beneath the sun. It’s a feeling that excites and terrifies her.

Speaking of, how was London?’ ‘Busy, dirty, congested.’

Florence loves her mother, but I don’t think she can ever truly appreciate how lucky she is to have a parent who encourages her to pick whatever path she wants in life and happily holds her hand as she walks down it, no matter whether it leads to a dead end or a pot of gold.

Unless I agree to do what she wants, I can’t make it right. Maybe I should’ve just said yes, but how long would I have to stay until she was happy for me to leave?

It’s as though her entire personality exited via her vagina along with the baby, and she’s had the afterbirth made into edible tablets. Even her profile photo is of her child.

As I buff light-reflecting concealer into my skin, I pretend all this effort is for me, an act of self-love, and not a desperate attempt to appear more attractive to my cheating fiancé than the woman he was secretly sharing chocolate cake with today.

I get that feeling again, the crawling sense of unease I felt the day she turned up here, remnants of pink polish on her nails. The unease I shoved aside because my sister was finally home. My heart beats frantically beneath my ribs. Silence pulls taut between us, so tight I could reach out and pluck it like a violin string.

‘She’s someone who wants to travel the world and paint it. She doesn’t care about owning a home or having a steady income, at least, not right now. She’s not sure she ever wants to get married or have children. She doesn’t want roots.’

‘Roots keep you anchored to one place and leave you vulnerable, because once they’re chopped away,

because how often does someone look you in the eye and ask if you’re happy? How often do you ask yourself that same question?

‘Maybe real happiness is living the life you want, the way you want, without worrying about other people’s expectations.’

‘If all it took to detect a dangerous individual was a few conversations, the world would be a much safer place.

‘Don’t be afraid to play the main character in your own life. Don’t be a person that things just happen to because it’s easier than being a person who makes things happen.’

I can tell you’re lonely here, Elinor.’ He brushes her hair away from her face. ‘You don’t have to be lonely anymore. Not with me.’

burr,

‘Olivia is going to play at the wedding.’

It’s rare to meet someone who holds so much power over others but chooses to use it to lift people up, instead of taking them down.’

This is an uncomfortable reality that women in the company of men must face. Men can hurt us if they really want to.

The broken shards sweep through my bloodstream, shredding and tearing.

His blatant, arrogant denial of the truth enrages me.

Resentment towards her brother grows within her like black mould. Because of him, she knows the smell of human blood. Because of him, she knows the ache of muscles after hours spent digging a grave. Because of him, she can’t look herself in the mirror. But she swallows her anger because Heath is all she has left.

saccharine

Captain Corelli’s Mandolin,’

I hear bones snapping against speeding metal. I see myself rolling over the bonnet and feel the cobweb-splintering of glass beneath me before I am flung onto the tarmac with bone-breaking force.

‘Some people can’t love without destroying what they care for most,’

Aren’t you tired of living your life for other people?’

The stakes are higher, more than a stubbed toe or toppled vase.

The darkness seems to come alive on all sides of me, full of darting shadows and looming shapes.

balustrade.

That there was no shame in trying to save everyone, but I need to come to terms with the fact that not everyone deserves to be saved. Or, like you, not everyone wants to be saved.

For years, without you by my side, I felt loneliness as keenly as a blade beneath my skin. Cold and unyielding. But now I know better. You glitter in the bright red of my blood. Our blood. We are sisters. We are aged twenty-seven and thirteen years old. I will never be alone.