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Eighty one: Go bad.
Becca
••••••••
Sitting on this well furnished chair, in this bright, beautiful, but empty room, which was so close to Dad's office, I tapped my feet against the hard marble floor, that devilish smirk playing on my lips. Who would have known that this tiny me could fool and crumble the life of my beloved, stupid sister? Not even me would have known that.
"You don't know where she is?" I asked Rita who put her eyes down, and seemed a bit nervous. "Hm… what if she's dead? Did you poison her for so long?" I inquired further.
She raised her eyes to me, terror playing through her facial expression. "Y-Yes. She's a lover of coffee. She takes coffee about three or four times a day. Each time she asks me to make one, I add some amount of powder from the bag you gave to me."
"Kudos!" I remarked, and sipped from the glass of wine beside me.
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I sobbed. The pain I was feeling obviously wasn't as crazy as hers, but it felt like mine was worse. She gaped, groans leaving her mouth. Her lips quivered, quite obvious that she wanted to say something. Blood kept gushing out from the left side of her chest, as well as her mouth. Tears left her eyes, the gun dropping from her hand. Her body shook, seeming as if she'd lose her stability soon.I was shocked. Being shocked was an understatement.She was battling to live; battling to save herself.Alarmed, I cried, "Celina!" The moment I attempted to grip her arm, her body impelled backwards. Her legs tripped over each other, and like a weak mango tree, she fell off the cliff.Seeing that, my heart s
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