“Oh…that? I haven’t met her particularly since she was born. I can’t bother myself with something of no value. That family grates on my nerves for some reason. I would go as far as saying that I hate them. I share my parents’ feelings about them.”

I balked, stepping away from the door.

Partly because of the hate I heard in Chyra’s voice, and partly because my mind had told me to.

But I didn’t consider my mind’s individuality at the moment, rather on Chyra’s hate.

Diana was six years old, or perhaps seven. And she didn’t know the girl that was my closest ally?

At least you should know...