When the others had first arrived on the new island, Lizzy had been pleased. For a few days, it had been like things were back to normal, like nothing had ever happened, like she could forget all the bad things and the bad thought that had caused her to turn to Chase of all people in her time of need.
At least. On the surface, she'd been happy.
But over time, she'd becoming aware of a growing... something. A toxic hatred that she was all too familiar with, and thought she'd left behind in the last couple of months. A burning desire for vengence, for an outlet for her anger, for something, anything; a need for things to go her way.
She'd started dreaming, too, of herself standing on a pile of bodies. The faces that she could make out were those of the individuals that she'd seen on the network that were their captors. She wasn't certain if she'd killed them or if she'd willed someone else to do it for her, but it didn't matter. They were dead. And obviously, that was all that was important.
She'd been woken up from this dream this morning unexpectedly to the sound of something knocking against her window, and she scowled at the frame, frustrated. It had been a nice dream. She flopped around in her bed for a bit but sleep wasn't coming again, and with a frustrated huff she threw the sheets back and flopped out of bed, scowling further. Scowl, scowl. She finally decided that she was hungry, and without changing out of her pajamas, headed for the door to her room and from there down to the kitchen.
When she got there, she saw that Lily was already inside and making breakfast. As usual. Scowl, scowl. She stomped her way over to the table and flopped down into one of the chairs, both her elbows landing on the table with a thump and propping her head up.
"I hate it here," she told Lily in a grumpy voice.