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Summary
“…do you even understand what you did to me? How much you hurt me? Are you that much of an idiota not to notice? Or do you just not care, huh tío? And-“ Her rant is cut off, but not by words. She can’t express how much she wishes it would have been cut off by words. But that hand on her waist is enough to change all of the anger inside her to fear. And suddenly, she is Icarus, at mercy of no one but the sun. “Quiet down, would you sobrina?” says her tío. “Anger isn’t a good look for you. And I know we don’t want anyone hearing right?” And she is five years old again, nothing but a clump of burnt flesh and melted wax.
IE:
What happens when a girl of wax is forced to melt.