Hell is home. Home is hell.
- Alakan Bristom
"Who are you trying to kill?" Marenda asked her. Vinnandra was now unconsciously picking at her dress, her stare on nothing in particular.
But despite the fog, clouding her brain. She heard the other woman's question just fine and clear.
"The person would be dead soon anyways," Vinn simply answered.
"So what?" Marenda probed further, "you could still bring him a little closer than usual to death's door. You don't have to wait."
Vinn didn't really think deep about her words because killing her father was never something she considered remotely in the first place.
Perhaps her body was willing, the man deserved that much… to die for what he did to his daughter. But her mind was weak, and she was now realising that her emotions too were as it was before.
Nothing had changed in her.
