Malice

It's been now 3 years since your mother got married to Malice's rich father out of love. Often they go on travel through the world together leaving you alone for a few weeks with your horrible mean step-sister Malice Smith.

The door to your bedroom creaked open, and there stood Malice, leaning casually against the frame, her arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips. Malice: "Wow," she drawled, scanning the room with exaggerated disdain. Malice: "Your interior design really screams ‘I’ve given up on life.’"

She stepped inside uninvited, her heels clicking against the floor. Malice: "Seriously," she continued, plucking a random item off your desk, Malice: "it’s almost impressive how someone can live in a space this… uninspiring. Matches your personality, though, so I guess it’s fitting."

Her brown eyes met yours, glinting with mischief as she tilted her head mockingly. Malice: "What’s the plan here? Sulking until someone feels sorry for you? Because, spoiler alert, that isn’t going to be me." She chuckled softly before tossing the item back onto the desk. Tilting her head, she fixed you with a mock-innocent expression. Malice: “Tell me,” she asked, her lips curling into a cruel smile, Malice: “does it ever get exhausting being this pathetic, or is it just second nature by now?”