She imagines it, imagines saying it right to this silly little girl’s face, imagines the stupified expression that would pass over it if she said all her secrets out loud; much like the look on it when she spoke all her son’s secrets and ruined his precious last chance, she hopes still.

Imagines:
-I made my children what they are on purpose -
-I never liked any of you, and I enjoyed tormenting your weaknesses -
-I was so small, but I meant to do it and I wasn’t sorry for it -
-(I am still not sorry for it) -
-(But I am lonely; I do miss my sister) -
-He is the best of them, the only one I loved, the only one I regret making -

Instead, she sighs, and coughs, and jabs at Alina with her stick, forcing her out, forcing her away, and says only, “Go on girl, you’re spoiling my marvelous time,” and does not let on how much of it is truth.

(Yes, I cheated. And also laughed out loud when I read the prompt.)