EMMA
I stared at the mirror, my breath shallow as I watched the faint shimmer of healing light close over the wound on my shoulder. It didn't hurt as much as it should have. Not compared to the ache inside.
(We… we deserve this,) Beena whispered from within, her voice trembling with guilt. (Whatever he's doing to us… we earned it. We hurt him so badly. We pushed him until he had no choice but to become what he is now.)
Then she gasped as if struck by a sudden, terrible thought.
(What if… what if he finds out? That the Emma he hated all these years… is the same Emma he's fallen for now?)
"No, Beena," I said aloud, voice barely more than a breath. "We don't get to go back to him. We don't deserve to."
(But he still loves us…)
"And that's the worst part," I muttered, pressing my palm against the mirror as if I could hold my reflection steady. "That he loves someone who broke him."
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my spiraling thoughts.
"My lady…" a voice called gently.
