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chapter eleven the art of letting go
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Izzy Windsor held grudges. She was not good at letting things go. It just wasn't in her nature to forgive and forget. She just couldn't forget. There was always a part of her that remembered all the times someone wronged her or did something that rubbed her the wrong way. It was another reason why she didn't have many friends. She didn't trust people. She never let herself trust people. Most of the time, they'd only disappoint her anyway, so there was no point.
Sometimes she thought that part of her was destroying her from the inside out. It put up walls between her and the world around her, preventing her from stepping outside of the bubble she had been born into. It was the part of her that still didn't trust Sarah completely; the part that tried to come up with reasons as to why the Cameron girl was still friends with someone like Izzy. It was the part of herself that she hated. But she couldn't just cut out that diseased section. It was a part of her, after all, and it wasn't something she could just change.
Trust her, she knew how fucked up it sounded. She knew she was fucked up, but it wasn't like she could stop being so . . . well . . . Izzy. She had been born into a family that gained their wealth by screwing people over to benefit themselves. She was a child born to not trust another and do whatever it took to always come out on top. She wasn't meant to trust people. She was meant to hold grudges and ruin people's lives if it meant hers could benefit from their downfall. It was the Windsor way. They wouldn't have been so wealthy without that tactic. And for a while, Izzy forced herself to be okay with that, but then that summer happened and she slowly felt herself hating the idea more and more.
That summer was one Izzy never expected. She expected it to be like all the others, only she didn't have her mother this time around. She expected sitting on the beach, watching life pass her by in a blur. She expected to hang around people she didn't really like for the sake of filling the hole in her chest. She expected to use people in order to feel whole again. It was the Windsor way, and Izzy was a Windsor through and through. But . . . now the thought of those things left a chip on her shoulder and filled her with unease. She didn't want to sit and watch life pass her by. She didn't want to be her father's puppet anymore. She wanted to bite the hand that fed her and chew it until it bled. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand being wrapped around her father's finger, carrying out the legacy that her mother had left behind.
