Meanwhile, inside a cramped, peeling-walled house, Kira's screams tore through the air like thunder.
She hurled a vase across the room, glass shattering against the wall. Then went the lamp. Then the chair. Anything her hands found, she threw, her breaths ragged, her face flushed with fury.
"Those filthy hypocrites!" she shouted, her voice cracking as she kicked over a stool. "How dare they throw me out like trash!"
When her rampage finally stopped, the room looked like a storm had passed through.
Panting, Kira dropped onto the floor, her chest heaving. A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she scanned the chaos around her. "She deserves to clean this up," she muttered venomously. "After all, she was born to be a servant."
Her words dripped with resentment thinking about Mariam. But deep inside, what burned more than her rage was humiliation.
She'd been tossed out like a piece of dirt, stripped of the comfort she had gotten used to.
