Opening the cupboard, my hopes of having a solid breakfast to start my day were dashed. Bottles of spices that had been on the same shelf as the teabags had exploded, sending their contents and countless glass shards throughout the cupboard.
Sheesh. Nothing’s working out today, is it.
The cupboard reeked of cinnamon and cumin and various peppers. They weren’t the only casualties there. Bottles of cooking supplies had exploded on the upper shelves, and their contents had settled overnight, most of it pooling on the shelves in layers of congealed liquid that were thick with the needle-thin particles of shattered glass.
The fridge, assuming there is one, probably isn’t faring any better. Especially if its shelves were made of glass.
I looked at the pair of them. Neither spoke, and Charlotte even looked away.
Yeeah, definitely an issue here.
I hated this. Hated feeling flawed, knowing they saw me that way. Being bruised, sore and stiff, I was visibly mortal to them.
I don’t think that’s the problem, though.
I hadn’t been able to stop Mannequin from hurting bystanders, or protect and warn my people about Shatterbird. How were they supposed to respect me as someone in charge? Sierra was even older than I was.
You did, though. You didn’t do a perfect job of it, no, but you were able to stop him from hurting more bystanders, and you were able to warn at least some of your people about Shatterbird via Charlotte. Hell, you even warned more people on your way to your dad. Sierra and especially Charlotte personally saw you doing everything you possibly could to make a difference, as a leader of the territory and otherwise.
Your standards for yourself are too high.
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