"Act what way? Like a victim of force?" I really, really want to hit her strongly right now.
"Like a spoiled brat," she clarifies, putting the fork in her pocket. "You think it's so awful, being here on this beautiful island? You think you're suffering by being in his bed?" she asked.
I stare at her like she's a lunatic. Does she honestly expect me to be okay with this situation? To meekly go along with this and never utter a word of protest?
She stares back at me, and for the first time, I notice some lines on her face. "You don't know the real meaning of suffering, little girl," she says softly, "and I hope you never find out.
Be nice to him, and you just might be able to continue living a charmed life."
She leaves the room, and I swallow to get rid of the sudden dryness in my throat.
For some reason, her words make my hands shake.
