Diana stood huddled, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest as if trying to physically hold her shattered worldview together. Her eyes were red-rimmed, burning with a mixture of virginal indignation and a deep, roiling jealousy she couldn't yet name.
"Whatever," Diana spat, her voice trembling but resolute. "It doesn't matter if you enjoy it or not. I'm not going to be a part of this filth. I am going to tell everyone. Mother, Aunt Susan, Aunt Nula—everyone will know what kind of animal you've become, and what kind of... of woman you are."
Lyra's face paled, the post-coital glow instantly replaced by a mask of frantic, maternal desperation. "You... why don't you understand? You'll destroy us both!" She reached out, her fingers twitching as she sought to grab her daughter's shoulder, to shake some "sense" into her, but Diana recoiled as if touched by a leper.
