Lillian's POVA Dream. A Memory.The dream began the same way it always did... soft footsteps on marble floors, the smell of citrus and antique perfume, and a coldness that clung to my skin like dew.I was ten again.Hair tied in a tight ribbon, wearing the pink tulle dress Mrs. Winslow insisted I call “blush,” though to me it always looked like faded shame. The dress itched, but I wasn’t allowed to scratch. Or complain. Or talk out of turn. My fingers, stiff and clenched, rested on my knees exactly as I’d been taught.“You’ll sit like a proper girl, won’t you, Lillian?” her voice echoed from behind me, buttery-sweet and sharp as glass.“Yes, ma’am,” I said, even in the dream.Even now, all these years later, the words rolled off my tongue like a reflex.In this dream-world, the walls were always too white. Too perfect. The sun bled through stained glass windows, casting unnatural colors across the living room floor. Blue. Red. Gold. Like a holy chapel. But I knew better. This wasn’t a
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-07-08 Baca selengkapnya