“I don’t really know what you expected.” Marian pictured herself floating behind her; lounging on an invisible cloud with a smart-ass grin on her face. She tried not to pay attention, to focus herself on something positive. “You knew she’d been planning this. You could have stepped in at any point and saved yourself the trouble….not that it would have helped.”

Marian pulled the pillow over her head and tried to block out her ears. It didn’t help. They were soundless words.

“Gods if you aren’t just pathetic. I mean, you’ve always been all talk haven’t you? Rather play games than get your hands dirty; all theory no muscle.” She heard herself laugh. It echoed with a hundred other voices she didn’t want to hear, but she heard her own through all of them.

She felt the sting of tears at her eyes. She dug her fingers into the pillow. Shut up, shut up, shut up, she thought.

“You walked right into her plans and gave her everything she wanted. Heck, this probably would have gone better if you’d opted to stay home.” Marian could see her other self’s smug smile through her eyelids, like the camera had zoomed right in on her mouth. Her teeth were sharper than she remembered. “They should have just left you down there. What a fitting end: buried in a forgotten tomb where no one will ever find you.”

Marian’s heart felt like a lead weight. Her throat felt heavy and sticky. How impossibly worthless was she? What good was she even for? What had they even accomplished in all of this?

“You wasted all of your time and more importantly: all of theirs. You endangered your children and hurt those you care about most. It’s a good thing you’re pretty, you’re not good for much else.”

A new voice, if only for a moment, “you’re a consummate professional.”

Marian took a deep breath. She didn’t have to feel good about herself, she just had to look good. She closed her eyes and tried to turn her focus. She was mad at herself, sure, but she wasn’t the only one to blame.

“She used you.” Those three words were enough to ignite the fire. Marian felt her fingernails tear apart the fabric of the pillow. If Marsi was smart, she wouldn’t show her face again. If she did it would be too soon.

It’s not about liking yourself. It’s about hating something else so much more.