@progcnitrix | cont’d from here
Come here? That meant danger, whenever her aunt had said it. Come here, ta fille stupide, ta fille pathétique, before some harsh statement or a back-handed smack. Ninny trembled harder in fear, her hands shaking like the winter wind rattling through trees.
But this woman looked so comforting, not at all like her aunt. She looked so soft and round. And she had orangey red hair-- Ninny’s hair had been that color once. She had hated it, despised how bright and firey it was, but now she sorely missed having hair at all. Or a head, for that matter.
Ninny seemed to collapse in on herself in uncertainty, taking a step towards the Mymble out of duty to instruction but twisting her fingers together so tightly that the knuckles went white.
