until i'm ready, let me be
Slowly, steadily, Amalia catches her breath, fury dissapating into a tired resignation at Sam's quiet simpering, because at the end of the day it's confirmation: he truly doesn't know.
It would be easier if he did, she thinks. It would be easier if she could hate him, see him as her enemy, a laughing face behind panes of glass. If he was part of the lie she could blame him for it; instead it falls on her to decide if he should be let in on the joke.
For a long, long minute Amalia is silent, her dark eyes dull as they study Sam. Behind the veneer a war is waging, the decision eating at her, tearing her apart. Tell him? Don't? Fulfil her father's (ugh) wishes and keep it to herself? Does she even want to be his sister, to change their already strained dynamic and add another dangerous layer? Once upon a time she would have loved to gain more family; even now had it been Evie who came to her rather than Sam her reaction would be entirely different.
Exhaling deeply, Amalia forces her hands to relax out of tight clasped claws, the now fairly battered paper coming loose within her grasp. Wordlessly she extends it toward the Ascended, an invitation should he choose to accept, still gauging his reactions with attentive, tired eyes. Let him decide if he wants to read it, and how he will respond. Let it be on his shoulders now.
He is her older brother, after all. Time to step up to the plate.
It would be easier if he did, she thinks. It would be easier if she could hate him, see him as her enemy, a laughing face behind panes of glass. If he was part of the lie she could blame him for it; instead it falls on her to decide if he should be let in on the joke.
For a long, long minute Amalia is silent, her dark eyes dull as they study Sam. Behind the veneer a war is waging, the decision eating at her, tearing her apart. Tell him? Don't? Fulfil her father's (ugh) wishes and keep it to herself? Does she even want to be his sister, to change their already strained dynamic and add another dangerous layer? Once upon a time she would have loved to gain more family; even now had it been Evie who came to her rather than Sam her reaction would be entirely different.
Exhaling deeply, Amalia forces her hands to relax out of tight clasped claws, the now fairly battered paper coming loose within her grasp. Wordlessly she extends it toward the Ascended, an invitation should he choose to accept, still gauging his reactions with attentive, tired eyes. Let him decide if he wants to read it, and how he will respond. Let it be on his shoulders now.
He is her older brother, after all. Time to step up to the plate.
i have to heal myself
AmaLiA
