Maria.
"Get out, rogue!" Anabel's voice snapped like a whip behind me, sharp enough to sting even though I tried to pretend otherwise.
My lips curled faintly into a humorless chuckle as I stepped out of the room and let the door close softly at my back.
Rogue.
The word chased after me like a shadow.
I used to flinch when I heard it, every syllable was a reminder of what I had lost.
My name, my place, my dignity. But somewhere along the way, it stopped hurting the same way. Somewhere between the punishments, the looks of disgust, and the whispers I pretended not to hear, rogue had become something of a second skin.
I should have been shattered by being called that again. Instead, I laughed, low and tired, because I had almost forgotten I had a name at all.
Still, the name wasn't what twisted my chest painfully. It was seeing Anabel's arms tightly wrapped around Noah like she owned the air he breathed.
