I stared at the canvas in my hands, feeling the weight of their expectant gazes. My fingers tightened around the wooden frame as emotions I'd been suppressing rose to the surface.
"For my father," I suddenly snarled, bringing the canvas down against the edge of the table with a satisfying crack. "Who never protected me when I needed it most!"
The splintering wood felt extraordinary under my hands. I slammed it down again.
"For Lady Beatrix, who made me feel like a monster in my own home!" Another violent crash sent pieces flying across the floor.
My breath came in short gasps as I reached for another canvas. "For Clara, who scarred my face and then had the audacity to act like the victim!" This one I hurled directly at the wall, where it left a mark before clattering to the floor.
"For everyone who whispered 'cursed' behind my back!" I stomped on the fallen canvas, feeling the wood splinter beneath my shoe. "For every single person who looked at my mask instead of seeing me!"
