Delilah’s Point of ViewThe brush slips in my hand, dragging a crimson streak of lipstick too far past my lip. “Damn it,” I hiss, tossing it onto the vanity table with more force than necessary. The sound echoes in the room, sharp and accusing, like even the walls know I am unraveling.I lean closer to the mirror and my reflection stares back flawless curls, gold earrings glinting beneath the lamp, but eyes that betray me. They tremble, flicker, give away the truth no matter how much mascara I drown them in. I can help but think about my life with Jackson before Emily , Amara or whatever name she goes by today came back into our lives . Our lives were not perfect but durable, now it is just full of drama , blood and injustice . I press the tissue against my mouth, wiping the mistake. Calm, Delilah. You have survived worse storms than this. But the storm tonight is not Jackson’s temper or society’s whispers. It’s Emily /Amara .My phone vibrates against the table, its glow lighting th
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