"Of course, how could I forget Auntie?"
Every word she said was eerie.
I exchanged a few perfunctory words with her before diving into my meal.
To my surprise, no one touched that pot of oatmeal in the end.
Lizzy, like a shadow, faded into an unnoticed corner, her oatmeal left untouched as well.
As guests departed, I pretended to help tidy up, all while discreetly observing Lizzy's every move.
She silently picked up the oatmeal from the table and headed outside.
I followed quietly behind.
Lizzy poured the oatmeal into the neighbor's large black dog's bowl and grabbed a stick from the ground, striking it forcefully.
At this moment, the neighbor was still helping at our place, unaware of the commotion here.
Lizzy tactfully positioned herself, the startled black dog barking furiously and lunging towards her.
But tethered by a rope, it couldn't reach her.
The dog, unable to bite her, lost interest and caught a whiff of the aroma from the bowl, eagerly digging in.
I had seen this big black dog always barking loudly at young Lizzy before, who would freeze in fear, rooted to the spot, tears streaming down her face.
Lizzy's parents never paid her any mind. It used to be me who would run to comfort her and take her away.
But the Lizzy standing before me now, faced with the very same black dog she once feared, showed no trace of fear at all.
She shed the timid, pleasing smile on her face and wore an expression of cold indifference.
"Eat up, have as much as you want! Since those bastards won't touch it, let you have it!"
Before long, the dog let out a whimper and collapsed on the ground.
Throughout the night, the neighbor's house was filled with commotion, but all that reached our side was a simple remark, "What bad luck!"
September brought a hint of coolness in the air.
Amanda was nearing her due date, and her whole family, except for Lizzy, was on high alert, treating her like fragile glass, fearing any misstep, almost wanting to put her in a bubble for safety.
Yet Lizzy, in these past few days, stood by, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Amanda's belly several times.
She had a venomous gaze, occasionally revealing a strange smirk on her face.
I started feeling nervous, not for the child in Amanda's belly, but to prevent a repeat of the past.
In my previous life, I didn't understand Amanda well because her boy-preference attitude was akin to my mother's, and I didn't like it.