✠ What do you regret most?
Send a ✠ and a question and my muse will reply to it after drinking lots of alcohol.
“When me and Margot were little we got on a lot better — like when there was a storm she’d come in my room because the thunder scared her but,” he sways in his seat, jaw slack and gaze abstracted, one hand lifts halfway to his face and then falls back into his lap.
“But when we turned sixteen I … I did something and now she doesn’t like me any more — see maybe I was a little rough, but I love her, and I know she loves me, but she just doesn’t like me now.”
His gestures have become grand, sweeping and dipping as he pours himself another glass — he’s a lucky drunk, doesn’t spill a drop, “I wish I hadn’t done it, you know.”
Alana cringes as Mason speaks. She can only imagine what Margot has had to endure over the years.
“I’m sure she wishes the same,” Alana says curtly, as she watches him pour another drink with surprising control.
“You say you love your sister, but why do you feel the need to control her? If you loved her wouldn’t giving her some freedom show her that?”
