Lovers In Crime: Soulflames

BLITHE DEL ROSARIO

Three hours later, I stepped out of the greenhouse, the scent of damp earth and flowers still lingering. I wandered through the dimly lit hallways of the mansion, my footsteps echoing softly on the marble floors. Each room held memories of laughter, but today, a heavy weight settled in my chest. The mansion felt more like a prison than a sanctuary, its walls closing in with each step.

At the end of the hallway, I saw Harlota standing before the family portrait that had watched over us for generations. My heart sank as I got closer, seeing the unsatisfied expression and apathetic look in her eyes. She was a storm of discontent, always searching for a way to lash out.

With a tense jaw, she turned to me, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You look pathetic, still crying over the dead. Can't you get over it? It's been years. What a waste of space!"

I barely flinched, forcing a smirk while tilting my head slightly. "Nice to see you too, Harlota. Still trying to elevate your sad existence by tearing others down? It's laughable."

Harlota laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that echoed in the empty hall. She stepped closer, invading my personal space. "Oh please, spare me your sob story. Who gives a damn about your tears? They're gone, and you're still here, wallowing in your pathetic little pity party while the rest of us actually live life."

"Mourning isn't a weakness," I shot back, straightening my posture. "It shows I care, which is more than I can say for you, who thrives on making everyone else miserable."

She leaned in, her eyes narrowing, a cruel smile spreading across her face as she gestured dismissively. "Care? What a fucking joke! You're just a sad little girl clinging to ghosts. Meanwhile, I'm the one living the good life while you drown in your own sorrow like the loser you are."

"Enjoy the good life?" I countered, raising an eyebrow and taking a step back to regain my composure. "You mean living off my family's wealth while pretending to be something you're not? That's not thriving; that's just pathetic."

Harlota's eyes flashed with anger, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "Insecurities much? You'd think after all this time you'd have figured out how to move on instead of haunting this place like a bad memory. You're like a broken record no one wants to hear."

"Better a relic than a hollow shell like you," I shot back defiantly, my voice rising. "You think you're superior, but all you've got is bitterness and envy. You act like you're living, but it's clear you're just a desperate girl playing dress-up in a mansion that isn't yours."

"Bitterness? I'm thriving!" she snapped, stepping even closer, her arrogance on full display. "You're just jealous because I can actually enjoy life while you cling to the past. At least I'm not a ghost in my own home."

"Enjoy life? You mean wallowing in entitlement and drama? That's not impressive," I said, my voice steady as I squared my shoulders. "You're just a guest in my house, trying to act like you own the place. Maybe you should check your reflection and see who the real loser is."

"Guest? Hardly. I'm the one keeping things interesting around here," she fired back, tossing her hair over her shoulder dramatically. "You should thank me for bringing some excitement into your boring existence. Without me, you'd fade into obscurity."

"Excitement? You think creating chaos is interesting?" I countered, crossing my arms defiantly. "I'd rather have my peace than deal with your pathetic attempts to stir things up. You're like a bad sitcom—always loud, never funny."

"Then kick me out if I'm such a burden!" Harlota challenged, her voice dripping with contempt as she stepped back, waving her hand dismissively. "If I annoy you so much, why do you keep me around? Afraid no one else would tolerate your whining?"

"Because family doesn't have an off switch," I replied, feeling my anger bubble over as I took a step forward. "But that doesn't mean I have to tolerate your nonsense. You're like a parasite, feeding off the misery you create."

"Good riddance, Blithe. You're just a sad little girl pretending to be something you're not," she shot back, her expression a mask of arrogance.

But I stood my ground, refusing to back down. "Maybe it's time for you to leave, Harlota. You don't belong here, and you know it. This is my home, and I won't let you poison it with your bitterness any longer."

Her confident façade began to crack. "You think you can just—"

"I don't think; I know," I interrupted, my voice steady and fierce as I took a step closer, unflinching. "Look around you. You're a guest in this house, and all you do is whine and stir up trouble. If you truly enjoyed life, you wouldn't spend all your time trying to drag me down. Maybe it's time you face the truth."

Harlota's bravado faltered. I could see the anger in her eyes start to shift, uncertainty creeping in as she took a step back. "You're just a sad little girl—"

"Who's finally standing up for herself," I cut her off, my voice rising with confidence. "You want to play the victim? Fine. But don't expect me to join your pity party. You're nothing but a hollow shell, desperately trying to fill your emptiness with cruelty. Enjoy your fake life; I'll take my authenticity any day."

I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to a low, mocking tone. "Just remember, Harlota, when you look in the mirror, you're not seeing a queen. You're just a jester in a crown that doesn't fit."

The silence hung heavy in the air as Harlota's bravado crumbled completely. With a last glare, she turned on her heel, retreating down the hallway, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

I felt a surge of satisfaction as I watched her go. This was my home, and I had finally reclaimed it from her toxic presence. The echoes of our confrontation lingered in the air, but I felt lighter, unshackled from her bitterness.