Prompt #45


"Have you killed him." My sister didn't need to raise her voice.

Twirling my thumbs, I sat down on a stuffed little bench. I felt oddly heavy and let out a small sigh. I turned my head towards the window, then to the ceiling, studying the beautiful, beautiful Sybils Maestro di Betti had painted up there. They gazed back at me, placidly, serenely, no reproach in their eyes.

Lucrezia slapped me then, so agitated that her face turned an unsightly, splotchy red - my lovely sister, displaying the pinched mug of a squalling babe. I found it most unbecoming, I remember, so I had to look away.