17. Dearly Beloved
Naminé was a Nobody. She could not feel. Larxene was quick to remind her of this.
"Another picture of Sora?" the older woman scoffed, tearing the sheet from Naminé's notebook. "Sora, Sora, Sora, always Sora."
Her lip curled as she examined the picture.
"You draw him so cutsie-like," she sneered. "I think you've got a little crush on him."
She laughed the way she always did, contemptuous and cold.
"Well, guess what, sweetie?" she said. The sound of tearing paper grated on Naminé's ears, and she looked down at her lap. "Youcan't."