"Gwendolyn," Winona snapped at her sister's curled up form. "I think we both agree that a little more valiance could have been demonstrated at this evening's meeting. This looks very weak and unprofessional on our part. Gwendolyn," she yelled.
"Shut up, Winona! Corpses below, why do you torment me like this?" She rolled over and sat up a little. It seemed she would have been crying, if she'd possessed the abaility. "You haven't the slightest comprehension of what I'm feeling. Have you ever loved one, and have lost them? I think not! So how can you speak to me of valiance?"
Guilt. It cut deep and long. "I'm sorry, Gwen. I'm sorry, Great one." Patronizing her now, Winona? Classy. "I'm only concerned for our security, and that of our people."
"So am I, Wicked one. Yet I don't find myself lashing out at every opportunity."
That was far from the acceptance of apology Winona had foolishly dared to hope for.
"Leave me, sister." Gwendolyn flopped back into her foetal position.
Years and years worth of rage bubbled like lava in the pit of Winona's stomach. Not trusting her tongue to simply bid her sister farewell, she stormed from the room and bolted straight for the bathroom.
It smelled of mould and old sewage in here. The toilet, bath and sink were barely fit for use anymore. Not that the Todaye twins had use of any.
Winona whipped open a drawer and rummaged through various metal instruments until she came across a small glistening blade.
Shivering like a drowning puppy, Winona sank to the bathroom floor, rolled back the sleeve of her cream cashmere jumper, and hacked at the soft flesh of her upper arm.
"Wicked," she hissed under her breath, seething in pain. "Wicked Winona. Winona the Wicked."
Waves of nausea rolling up from deep inside her, Winona collapsed onto her side, her arm stretching out over the cold, cracked, filthy tiles. She led the blade fall from her grasp, and shook with huge dry sobs.
"Wicked," she whispered, her eyes closing. "Wicked..."