You were meant for me! Not her…. Fiona screamed at her Image. Her perfect day had turned to trash really fast. She cleaned crimson off her knife and put it in her purse. She hated doing this, but he deserved it. She walked out of her pristine apartment, slamming the door behind her.
She picked the lock to the living room, sneering at their apparent trust in humanity. She always wondered why people didn’t get better locks for their doors. She looked around the living room. Her living room. She looked at the wall paper in the dining area. So distasteful.
How couldn’t he see that his impostor didn’t even have a good sense of style or designing.