Lucy kept going on and on about you needing to pick up the pace and help around with more and more things, disregarding the fact that you were already doing so much to help, and it was getting annoying.

But you couldn't take it anymore. All the yelling, the fights, the acting, the snark remarks, the sarcastic smiles, everything.

One day, you snapped, you couldn't take it anymore. It was like a volcano had erupted, like it had exploded. Hot lava spewing from your mouth, one that would hurt and scar Lucy, but you wanted that. You wanted her to hurt, just like how you did.

"If our loved died, would the be the worst thing?" You spat one day, breaking from all the pressure.

Lucy only scoffed, before taking a step forward, screaming back at you. "For somebody I though was my savior, you sure make me do a whole lot of labor!"

"It's not an act of love if you make me!" Immediately, you yelled back, releasing all of your anger. "**You make me do too much labor."