Cora’s throat tightens and she gasps down a drowning breath, tears scorching her skin. She buries her face in her hands and sobs, curling up against her fridge. She did this to Delilah. She didn’t burn joss paper, she didn’t pray for her. She never even went to her grave after the funeral. It felt easier that way, to try to spackle over all the holes Delilah had left behind as quickly as possible. Cora was supposed to be the one who suffered. Cora was good at suffering, it was nothing new to her. Nothing she did was supposed to hurt Delilah anymore. Because even if Cora thought she hated her
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