One Half Of Me

The plates clattered harder than I meant them to when I dropped them into the sink. The sound echoed through the kitchen loudly.

“Go home, Estella.” I didn’t look at her. The edge in my voice was sharper than the porcelain shards at the bottom of the basin. “You’ve said enough.”

“Have I?” Her reflection glared back at me from the dark windowpane. “Why won’t you speak of her? Why does my sister's