Chapter Text
Today was supposed to be good.
Every day with Artful was always good.
It was a performance Lizzy was particularly excited for. Supposedly one of Artful’s biggest. She could see the advertising paid off, considering the much larger audience than before.
Her eyes practically sparkled from the front row while she watched his tricks come to life. The way the wand spun in his hands, how he smiled so confidently—truly, it almost distracted Lizzy from the booing.
Almost.
The screams took a moment to sound. She looked around worriedly, trying to figure out what happened, only to notice the crimson pooling around the grass. Lizzy froze as she stared down at the surrounded body of a Civilian on the ground.
Chunks of white brick protruded out of their body. She could see their fingers slightly twitch and the slowing rise and fall of their chest, her heart dropping to her stomach at the gruesome sight.
Horrified, she lowered her head and covered the back of neck in a pitiful attempt to protect her spine as she ran. More shrieks erupted as the crowd turned to complete chaos. One by one, Civilians fell, their cries for help fading into nothingness.
Until she was the last person standing.
There was a sharp, unmistakable pain that came with blunt force trauma. One that Lizzy would never forget. She remembered coming to a stop in the middle of the field, legs wobbling, before her hand shakily touched her wet forehead.
Blood. Lots of it. Dark red coated her fingertips like paint, dripping down her forehead to her chin. There was an increasing ringing in her ears that began to grow overwhelming. Her vision blurred as she forced herself upright, practically tripping on nothing.
Trying to get to Artful, Lizzy stumbled in the opposite direction of the exit, her mind a jumbled mess of frantic thoughts. What if he was hurt as well? Whatever was attacking the Civilians was near the front, after all. She just wanted to help—he was like family to her.
She wanted to save him.
Breathy gasps escaped her lips as staggered forward, a bloodied hand outstretched towards the stage in the feeble hope of reaching Artful, before her trembling knees gave in and everything went dark.
—
Ow…
Her body felt awfully sore, like she had been tossed around in a bumpy cart ride. Lizzy quietly grumbled, eyebrows crinkling together. There was an annoying beeping interrupting her deep sleep. Against her own will, she forced open her eyes.
What greeted her tired gaze was not her bedroom’s pale ceiling, but fluorescent lights instead. It took Lizzy a great deal of effort to gather her thoughts into a coherent sentence.
A hospital?
The room was… Boring. As boring as a private hospital room could be. White walls next to white tiled floors and white cabinets. It didn’t help that the lights were so blindingly bright, too. And the noise of the machinery was irritating Lizzy, who already had a massive headache.
For a hospital, it wasn’t exactly ‘healing’ her. Mentally, at least. This place must be hell. Or some sort of purgatory waiting room. Whatever it was, she wanted out. She wanted to go home.
She shuffled in bed, trying to sit up against the fluffed pillows, only to grunt in pain once her limbs protested against the sudden movement. Frustrated, Lizzy huffed. Why couldn’t her body keep up with her mind?
As she caught her breath, a blurry figure appeared in the corner of her eye. One that gasped in shock at the sight in front of them, their jaw dropping.
“Lizzy?”
That voice. That face. It was familiar. Weakly, she turned her head to the side to get a better look at the person sitting beside her bedside table before they suddenly threw their arms around her in a desperate hug.
“You're really alive..!” they muttered breathlessly. Lizzy blinked, the gears in her head turning as she realized that the voice to her belonged to her older sister. Sarah squeezed tighter, her embrace becoming smothering; yet, despite the discomfort, Lizzy still hugged back.
Eventually, Sarah finally pulled away, giving Lizzy room to breathe again. Her eyes were glossy with tears as she stared down at her baby sister with nothing but pure relief. Immediately, a rush of words spilled out of her lips. “Are you feeling okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Do you remember me?”
Through the endless questions, only a single thought crossed Lizzy’s mind, one she impulsively blurted out.
“Where is Artful?”
The room fell hush, the quietness suffocating almost. Sarah’s gaze softened, voice firm in an attempt to be comforting; but to Lizzy, it was the telltale sign of horrible news to come, and she didn’t want to hear any of it.
“I…” she began, hesitant of where to even start. “Lizzy, what are you talking about? He almost killed you.”
Lizzy’s jaw went slack. “..What?
Her mouth felt suddenly dry as she thought hard about what to say next. Artful? A killer? He wouldn’t do that. He would never hurt someone on purpose, much less her—not in a million years. Sarah must’ve had the wrong person. Or maybe this was a weird, surreal dream and she was still asleep in the real world.
Sarah didn’t wait for her to gather her thoughts. “He killed everyone. Everyone except you. You… You saw it, right? The bodies. It was a massacre.”
A shiver crawled up Lizzy’s spine. A dreadful, foreboding feeling.
No. That can’t be.
“There were Civilians completely flattened, a-and corpses mangled beyond recognition apparently…”
Stop. Stop talking.
“So, so much blood. It was… Horrible. And that man was nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t even turn himself in.”
Please, don’t.
“Even just hearing about it made me sick. It’s really a miracle you survived—“
“—Stop. I’ve heard enough. Artful isn’t that type of person.” She didn’t know where she got the confidence from, yet she was sure of her response anyway in her half-conscious mind. In truth, nothing about this felt real. She didn’t feel real. Every word she said slipped out without another thought.
Frowning, Sarah didn’t pursue the topic any further. “..Do you remember what happened?”
Unfortunately, Lizzy did.
“It was going like normal. Going well, actually.” There was a deep pit in her stomach. It only got deeper as she spoke. “And then… I-I’m not really sure how, but I guess Mr. Artful messed up somewhere, and… People started booing. I think banana peels were thrown.”
Sarah furrowed her eyebrows slightly. What an overreaction to such little backlash. “Is that why he attacked the audience?”
“I guess..? I don’t really… I don’t know. But Mr. Artful wouldn’t do something like that, he wouldn’t just lose it. It had to be something else, it just has to be—!” exclaimed Lizzy before pain suddenly shot through her body.
Panicked, Sarah placed a hand over her sister’s. “H-Hey! Don’t push yourself too hard, you just woke up. Relax, Lizzy.”
“I’m… I’m alright,” she muttered breathlessly. Exhaustion was starting to set in again. “..You’re right. I saw a dead body. A lot of them. I-I tried to run to the stage because I was scared Mr. Artful was hurt. I wanted to help him in case he was also attacked…”
Sarah stared, teary-eyed. She squeezed Lizzy’s hand comfortingly. “You’re alive. And that’s all that matters.” Her voice shook with guilt, like she regretted ever letting Lizzy out of her sight.
Lizzy didn’t squeeze back. Instead, she looked up at her older sister with a weary expression. “Is it really?”
“Of course. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
“..Mr. Artful is still out there, isn’t he?” she murmured. “I hope he’s okay. I hope he knows I’m alive.”
Sarah was unsure of what to say. Why did Lizzy place so much trust in that man? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her, or anybody for that matter. Not after what he’s done. Yet, here Lizzy was, still believing in the good of that man despite it all.
It made Sarah feel like her anger was not justified. He lied to her. He lied to them, to everyone. He acted like a guardian figure towards Lizzy. Sarah thought he was someone her sister could look up to.
Was it wrong of her to be mad on Lizzy’s behalf? Was it wrong of her to want to see that murderer punished for the crimes he committed? For almost killing the only person who truly cared about Sarah? For breaking not only Lizzy’s trust, but her’s as well?
By the time she made her decision, Lizzy had fallen back asleep. Sarah pondered the idea that she might not wake up again, but she tried to remain collected as she stood up and pulled the blanket back over Lizzy.
Sarah wasn’t going to forgive Artful. Not now, not ever. But, begrudgingly, she chose to support Lizzy’s choice in the matter. Lizzy was the victim, not her. It wasn’t up to her to decide what his fate should be.
Right?
—
Recovery was a slow and painful process. But it was worth it. Or at least, everyone said it was.
The first few months, Lizzy could barely move her limbs, much less walk. She found herself with migraines that felt like her head was splitting in two and the hand-eye coordination of a toddler. It was agonizing, but Sarah was by her side the entire time, no matter how frustrated Lizzy would sometimes get thanks to the monotonous torture of living in a hospital.
Her appetite was basically nonexistent. The nurse assigned to her—his name was Carecloak if she remembered correctly, her memory was rather fuzzy because of her injuries according to him—had to practically beg her to attempt to eat and drink. It was difficult due to how shaky her hands constantly were; nonetheless, she tried, it pained her to see Carecloak so desperate.
And now, finally, after all that hard work in physical and mental therapy, Lizzy was scheduled for a hospital discharge in the evening. It seemed like just a day ago that she was stuck to that bed, not even able to sit up without help.
She stood at the mirror, cane in hand to help with balance, staring at the reflection. She saw herself—slightly blurry, but there she was. Alive. Real. Not a zombie, or a ghost, or whatever weird creature she sometimes wondered she had become after the incident. Sarah had brought over a change of clothes the other day so she didn’t need to keep wearing the hospital gown.
Stitches lined up above her eyebrow where brick had met skin. At least she didn’t have to get her head shaved… Lizzy squinted, focusing more on the bandages that covered her right eye.
Apparently, the trauma had damaged her optic nerves and left her blind in one eye, much to her dismay. Medical mumbo jumbo that she half-tuned out when Carecloak explained it. No wonder she felt like her depth perception was off.
In the end, Lizzy chose to remove the eye. It would be a while until she got used to the different vision. At least she could put a cool eyepatch on and pretend to be a pirate.
There came a knocking at the door, followed by Carecloak entering. What surprised her was not the set of papers detailing her stay in his hands, but rather the Civilian who trailed behind. More so their appearance.
They were clad in a dark magenta, dressed like a Robloxia sheriff with the cowboy-esque hat, yet the amount of heart imagery was puzzling. Yeah, the outfit was cute, but they honestly looked like they were going to a party.
“Oh! Good morning, Ms. Elizabeth. I didn’t think you’d be up yet… You seem like you’re in good spirits. That’s, uh—that’s great!” Carecloak nervously readjusted his glasses. Lizzy thought it was a little funny he was such a wreck despite being so tall. “Um… Here. These are your discharge papers. It has instructions about post-care treatment, s-so… Please read it fully when you can.”
Lizzy offered a sheepish smile, taking the documents from his hands. Her limbs were still trembling because of tremors, but the shaking had gotten somewhat better as of late. Her footing remained unsteady though, and she had fallen so many times that she knew the floor like it was a friend now.
“Thanks, Carecloak. And… Sorry, who’s the other person?”
“Loveshot,” the stranger explained, tipping the brim of their hat respectfully. Their name matched their appearance. “Howdy. Nice to meet’cha, missy. I work as the sheriff department’s medic, good friend of Carecloak’s. Is now a good time to talk?”
After a brief pause, Lizzy nodded. She had nothing better to do than wait for Sarah to come pick her up, anyway.
Loveshot gave a carefree grin, waving Carecloak away, who hurriedly left. Were they his boss or something? “Well, I just wanna say, good job for powerin’ through all of this. Must’ve been rough, huh, kiddo?”
“Er… Uh-huh.” It was a bit awkward to be treated so familiarly by someone she just met.
Loveshot grew quiet, their expression dropping slightly. Not in a way that made Lizzy feel like she had done anything wrong, but more so in a way that made Loveshot seem like they wanted to speak about something serious.
“Not to rain on your parade or anythin’, but I’m sure you’re aware ‘bout the whole… Incident. He’s on the run. We’re investigatin’ it—I’m in charge of the case, actually.”
Lizzy was reluctant to respond. “Good to know?”
“You’re our key witness to solvin’ this, missy.” They pulled out a chair in her room to sit down, leaning forward and placing their elbows on their knees. “A testimony, a statement; whatever ya wanna call it. If you’ve got anythin’ about the suspect, any leads, I’ll be more than happy to hear it.”
Instinctively, Lizzy frowned. Of course they were here to speak about Artful. She glanced away, trying to hide her irritated expression, though Loveshot could already see the furrow in her brow.
“You want a lead?” Her voice trailed off. She could already imagine the punishment awaiting Artful once he was arrested. Would it be considered justice? Karma? Probably. Everyone would celebrate his imprisonment—or hell, maybe even death—and Lizzy wasn’t going to argue that it was wrong.
But the idea was sickening anyway.
She knew she couldn’t stop him from facing the consequences of his actions. She was not the only victim of his, and as big of a fan she was, even she understood that he needed to be held accountable. Yet, despite it all, she wanted to ask him at least one question, alone; why?
He was a good person. He cared for her, as did she. He had emotions, he had empathy, so why did he do that? And why did he still believe in him, despite it all?
..Perhaps, if she found him first, before the government, she’d have a chance to receive the answer.
“I’ll tell you everything I know about Mr. Artful.”
Loveshot smiled. “Thank you for your cooperation—”
“—But,” interrupted Lizzy. “I want to be involved in finding him.”
That made Loveshot falter, their usually casual attitude wavering at the unexpected request. Or was it more of a demand? Either way, they choked on their spit. People had asked for money or protection before in exchange for their word, but not once did somebody ask to be directly PART of the investigation itself. In cases like these, the victim usually wanted nothing more than to steer clear of the perpetrator.
“Look, missy. You’re young, you’re traumatized. Processing all of this must be difficult. But you’re above snakes, it won’t do you any good tryin’ to play detective. Leave revenge up to us prepared folk,” argued Loveshot, patting their chest after almost going into a coughing fit.
“It’s not for revenge.” Her grip grew tighter. “I want to talk to him. I’m sure he feels guilty, I just… I just want to show him I’m still alive. He doesn’t need to be tormented like this.”
Sighing, Loveshot ran their hand through their hair in exasperation. She really didn’t take no for an answer, huh? “That dog won’t hunt. Ya think a little heart-to-heart is gonna fix everything? Pull in your horns; clearly reasoning doesn't work with that man, considerin’ what he’s done. Who’s to say he won’t try that bullcrap again? He’s a menace, I tell ya.”
If Lizzy wasn’t already pissed off, then she most definitely was now.
“No! No, he’s not! It was an accident, he wouldn’t… He didn’t mean to!” she protested. She stumbled desperately, the cane clattering to the tiled floor besides her as she roughly pushed it aside. “Please, you have to listen to me—!”
Almost falling forward, Loveshot quickly stood up, grabbing Lizzy by the shoulders to prevent her from hitting the ground like her cane. They held her tightly, accidentally pressing down on bruises they couldn’t see behind her sleeves. Lizzy didn’t mention anything despite the pain that formed—she was too focused on defending Artful’s innocence.
“H-He’s not a menace, he won’t hurt me, I swear! Let me talk to him!” she pleaded, teary-eyed as if they had already found Artful.
Loveshot stared down at Lizzy, their expression unreadable. She couldn’t tell if they were pitying her or angered by her sheer audacity. “Ms. Elizabeth, calm down! He’s nowhere near here, you’re not gonna be able to talk with him right now.”
Lizzy panted heavily, her breathing eventually returning back to its steady pace as she relaxed. Loveshot sat her down, turning to pick up her cane and giving it to her. She quietly took it back without another word.
“I dunno why you wanna speak to the guy so much, but you'll get your opportunity in court,” Loveshot mumbled, attempting to appear reassuring. It didn’t work. Lizzy couldn't even appreciate the effort because they had no real clue on how she was truly feeling.
She repeated herself adamantly. “I want to talk with him, one-on-one. I want to help with finding him.”
“I told ya already. You can't.” They clicked their tongue. “It's not just Artful we're huntin’ down. There's these… Monsters. Dunno where they came from, or what they even are, but they're ten times more dangerous than him. We're already swamped, runnin’ ‘round Robloxia, tryin’ to catch them before they catch us. If you snoop ‘round, you'll make yourself a target, too.”
Lizzy remained still, looking down at her shoes and avoiding eye contact. This wasn’t going anywhere. She could tell they had no intention of letting her risk her life. Loveshot took the silence as a sign of (reluctant) acceptance.
“You've got questions, I can see that, but your safety comes first. It's a miracle you survived—so keep livin’ on, okay? Spend time with your friends ‘n family. Appreciate them. We're protectin’ that simple, daily life of Civilians. It won't do ya any good tryin’ to bite off more than you can chew,” explained Loveshot.
They paused. “..Well, I've got places to be. Here, my business card.” They slid a thin, pink paper towards Lizzy. She squinted, barely making out the numbers printed on it, before looking back up at them. “Just in case ya decide to give your testimony. Or if you need some help, give me a call. I'm here for ya, missy.”
As they took their leave, she glanced back down at the card. It was friendly, with hearts detailing the edges. Honestly, the thing looked more like a party invitation than a business card. What a joke.
Lizzy completely understood what they meant. They were telling her to stay in her lane and avoid any more trouble, essentially saying that ignorance is bliss for someone like her. And in a situation like this, maybe it was.
But Lizzy wasn't planning to give up. Not yet.
—
The ride home was an awkward one.
Sitting in the passenger seat of her rundown car (honestly, it was probably more dangerous to be inside this thing than to just walk home with her injuries in the rain, but she trusted her sister’s driving), her cane rested comfortably between her legs as she recalled what Loveshot had said that morning.
There were threats other than Artful.
There were threats more dangerous than Artful.
The solace of being alive even after everything that’s happened to her was short-lived. She couldn’t appreciate it, not when the thought of Artful being labeled as a killer alongside rampaging monsters left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She had heard of those other dangers on the news and from neighborhood gossip, but thankfully, never actually encountered them. It seemed like it only got worse in the timeframe she was a patient. No wonder Loveshot sounded so desperate for her to mind her own business, Robloxia was practically burning to the ground.
Maybe she was being a bit overdramatic complaining about the hospital her first day there when the outside world was actively being destroyed by unknown creatures.
“You okay?” Sarah asked from the wheel, halting Lizzy’s train of thought. Heavy rain pelted the windows in a rhythmic, almost soothing pattern. Fog obscured the street ahead, though Sarah tried her best not to get lost.
“What?” muttered Lizzy. Sarah had been asking that same question for the past few months. Did almost losing Lizzy somehow reduce her vocabulary? “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“..If you want, I can get you pain medication. They’ve been a bit expensive lately, with all the attacks and whatnot, but—”
“I said I’m fine. It’s not like I’m in agony. Just give me a few more days and I’ll be okay,” Lizzy snapped, irritated. But she wasn’t being completely honest about her own wellbeing, and she knew that.
Sure, it wasn’t like she was being tortured, yet truthfully? It was hard to live like this. She couldn’t go where she wanted to automatically, she had to think about what the next step was, which foot she should use; it was like her mind couldn’t keep up with her body… And don’t get her started on her eye. There was a constant ache, even though it wasn’t even there anymore—phantom pain, Carecloak had called it. Yet another effect of her injuries.
But would she tell Sarah that? Of course not. Lizzy didn’t want to worry her any longer. She could overcome this herself. She wasn’t a child anymore, she didn’t need to rely on her older sister. She shouldn’t be burdening her.
“Well,” Sarah sighed. “If you need help with anything, you can always come to me.”
Lizzy nodded—not that Sarah could even see it because her eyes were on the road—but was she ever actually going to take her sister up on that offer?
Nope.
They eventually reached their destination; a dingy, old apartment on the first floor. It was a cramped hovel, and Sarah was likely going to be behind on rent after paying the hospital bills, but it was home.
Holding an umbrella open for Lizzy as she helped her out of the car, Sarah made a mental note to take bowls from the kitchen in case the roof started leaking with how much rain was pouring down on them.
“Er… By the way, before we get inside, I need to tell you something,” she nervously started, fumbling for the keys in her pocket with her left hand while her right continued keeping the umbrella upright.
Lizzy stopped, clutching her cane for support. “What?”
“When I first got the news about… You, I was really shocked. I didn’t know what to do that entire time you were gone, the house was so quiet. And empty. I even skipped work a few times.” She fished the keys out of her jeans as the two made it to the front door. “When I couldn’t visit you at the hospital, I went to your bedroom and just… Laid on your bed. I dunno, maybe I was trying to pretend you were with me.”
“That’s it? Sarah, I’m not weirded out or anything.”
Sarah sucked in an anxious breath as she opened the door. “You, uh… You had a lot of that man’s merch. Yeah. A lot of it. I, um… The doctors weren’t sure when you were going to recover, or IF you were going to, so…”
“Just spit it out already,” grumbled Lizzy.
“..I couldn’t stand seeing his face. Not after what he did to you.” Opening the door, she wiped her shoes on the old welcome mat. “You had posters of him. Plushies. Hell, even his music. All from his stupid gift shop.”
Sarah avoided eye contact. “One night, when I was feeling particularly bad, I decided to go to your room again. This was at the beginning of your hospitalization, when you couldn’t even walk yet, I think. I could see how much you adored him, a-and… I just… I got mad. I was frustrated, Lizzy. You’ve been a fan ever since he was a nobody. It was just one bad performance. What kind of monster does that to his fans?”
Lizzy stood in the doorway. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Does she tell Sarah not to call him that because it made her feel worse? Does she just shut up and bear with it because it would be odd of her to defend someone who almost murdered her?
“So… I tossed out all of the merch you had. I-I… I was so angry. Angry that he took you away from me—or, well… Almost did.”
Blinking, Lizzy remained speechless.
“Everybody thought you were going to die. Seriously, even though you could talk and whatnot, you were so out of it that people were giving me their condolences. I was already getting sympathy flowers from the neighbors. I was thinking that I was going to have to fucking prepare my little sister’s FUNERAL. And to see that killer’s face all over your room? It just made everything worse.”
Sarah took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It didn’t work
“He’s gone. Even the t-shirts you made. I threw it all away, I didn’t even try to sell them because I knew nobody would spend money on that fraud. Everything related to him is gone, so… Your bedroom is a bit empty right now.” She finally looked back at Lizzy, a guilty expression on her face. “Are you mad?”
Lizzy had to think about that question.
WAS she mad? She couldn’t blame her sister for the outburst. And in the past, she would have never gotten angry about this. That sort of reaction towards a literal murderer was normal. No sane Civilian would want to keep merchandise of a killer in their house.
Unfortunately for Sarah (and Lizzy, who would never want to behave this way, not in a million years), Lizzy’s thought process was much too impacted by the incident to think sensibly.
“..Are you kidding me?” Her eyebrow twitched. “All my hard-earned Robux, down the drain like that?”
“Lizzy…”
“You know how much time and effort and money I spent!? You… You can’t just get rid of everything because you’re pissed! You KNEW I was alive, I was literally awake!” Lizzy’s voice rose impulsively.
She didn’t want to yell at Sarah. She didn’t want to pretend like it was horrible of Sarah to heal in her own way. She didn’t know why she was acting this way, this was entirely out-of-character for her, but it felt like the littlest thing could tick her off.
She hated this. She hated Sarah. And most of all, Lizzy hated herself for not being able to be rational about it all.
“Listen—”
“—You didn’t even THINK to ask me? You know how much all of that meant to me!”
“C’mon, try to understand! I was angry, I thought you were going to die!”
“So? That doesn’t mean you can just make decisions for me! For Sauce’s sake, Sarah, I’m not a little kid anymore! I can make my own choices!”
Sarah scowled. “Well, you’re acting like one right now!”
“Jeez, you act like I’m so immature, when you can’t even control your own feelings!” Lizzy rolled her eyes. “I bet you’ve been wanting to throw my Artful stuff away for a while, anyway! You’re always calling my interests childish!”
“When have I ever done that!?”
“LOTS OF TIMES!” she exclaimed, slamming the bottom of her cane against the creaky floorboards as if to emphasize her point.
“Shit… Don’t do that, you’re gonna bother the neighbors!” scolded Sarah.
“Who cares? You’re constantly complaining about them anyway! Blah, blah, blah—oh, the old lady next door was making fun of our financial situation! Oh, the couple above us is too cheesy!” Lizzy mocked. “All you do is whine, whine, whine!”
Sarah clenched her fist into a ball, gritting her teeth as her thoughts raced. Don’t get mad. Don’t get mad at her. Carecloak said she’s going to be easily irritated. Don’t yell. Don’t be emotional. Don’t be overdramatic. Think about her feelings.
Be a good sister.
“..Go to your room.” She pointed at the bedroom down the hallway. It was still decorated in old stickers from when they first moved here.
“You can’t just—!”
“Go!”
Huffing, Lizzy stomped off, slamming her door shut behind her with a loud thud. As soon as her younger sister was out of sight, Sarah let out a breath of relief she didn’t realize she was holding in. She slid down the paint-peeled wall until she sat down on the floor.
She placed her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. Carecloak had warned her about the symptoms of traumatic brain injuries. Increased agitation and mood swings were the ones he specified the most, yet nonetheless, it caught her off guard.
This wasn’t the Lizzy she raised. She knew Lizzy as someone sweet and reserved, too kind for her own good. Her baby sister would never argue with her like that. But what could Sarah do except be patient and keep unconditionally supporting her?
Well, at least it couldn’t get any worse… Probably.
