CHAPTER ONE-HUNDRED AND EIGHT

Myra's Pov

I really hated sitting here. And I disliked talking to father like a mime; using my head and face to gesture, while screaming inside my head like I was insane. It was weird to see father's straight face even when his own words became stern; while my entire expression moved like a wave in the ocean, flowing in rage along with my feelings. I knew the forest view ahead of me was beautiful, but I wasn't in the headspace to truly see it for what it was. As I was livid at fathers words and annoyed at his heartless sentiments. I lost my temper and called him what I truly felt he was. The anger in me had reached breaking point, and the words had simply burst through my thoughts, and came out loud enough for him to pick it up in his own heart.

I now hated this stuffed carriage front even more than before. And I deeply wanted to break out of the door beside me and run away, but it was locked. And I couldn't lift myself to lunge outside without my arm first brushing against Flanagan'