Charlotte Sanguinite POV:
“You,” I breathe, rooted in place out of fear and shock.
The last time I saw Arabella, she was sneering at me, a kind of viciousness in her eyes that no ten-year-old should have. When it came to her appearance, Arabella inherited our father’s dark looks, her skin a beautiful olive shade, her eyes a sharp green, and her hair black as a raven’s, falling to her waistline like a waterfall. As a child, she was cute, but as an adult, she’s gorgeous. Her cheekbones are sharp, her eyes almost catlike. She has lost all her chubbiness, her figure slims like a model’s.
Compared to her, I look like a frumpy maid, with my hair in disarray, my curvy figure, and the bags under my eyes.
I see the way my sister looks at me, her eyes running up and down my body in a horrid mixt
