She had always lived in the shadows. Existing but never really being seen. But things had changed now. Big changes were about to come and she was ready to take her place at the forefront.
She stood up, wiping the blood of her hands as she gazed down at the mutilated face of the woman who had been her tormenter, her jailer, her grandmother. A peal of laughter broke from her lips as she danced around the corpse.
“She’s dead! She’s dead! She’s dead.” She sang in a little sing song voice, her black skirts twirling around her. “The wicked witch is finally dead.”
“Oh my god Emily! What have you done?!” Her cousin Delilah screeched as she stood in the doorway to Emily’s cell. Her face had gone white and her hands were trembling. She looked the dead body of the matriarch carved up and eviscerated on the cold ground to the young woman who spun around the room laughing gleefully.
Emily stopped spinning and she turned to look at her cousin with a smile on her blood stained lips.
“I have set us free.”