Adina paced around. The room felt too tight, like it was closing in on her. Her mind was too full. Freya's voice still echoed in her head—those cruel words, the threats, the sneers. Each word that left her lips was designed to hurt her.
Adina hated that she didn't do much. She was still lacking in so many ways. She should've yelled louder, pushed her harder, fought more.
Why had she let Freya get under her skin like that?
Adina dragged a hand through her curls and let out a frustrated sigh. She hated feeling like this. Feeling like this wasn't new to her. It was almost like a second skin at this point, and she detested it. Like the scared girl who used to flinch at Roman's footsteps and bite her tongue when Cassandra laughed too loud. Or jump in fright whenever Cassandra's father raised his hand.
How long will she continue to jump in fright whenever another Cassandra comes along? No— She had to break out of this shell.
