Wild Card

People are never who you think they are.
The first time I saw her, she was watching me from a bedroom window. A mournful witness as I shoved her mother’s lifeless body in the trunk.
The next time, it was me watching her atop a pedestal. On display like those glass curios, my mother loved so much. Turning like a little ballerina in a jewelry box while her stepfather tried to sell her to the highest bidder.
A victim playing at scamp, her eyes told the truth.
Regrettably, I looked away and lost her.
This time, I’m staring her in the eye, and I know without a doubt. That’s Chrysalis Chance.
With that unpredictable look in her eyes, she may be more of a wild card than me.