I tore the outfit off me, ripping the blouse in the process, dragging the skirt down and leaving it on the floor as I walked straight into the shower. The water hit my skin, but nothing helped. Anger and more anger. It sat under my ribs like something feral with claws.
When the shower did nothing, I put on my workout gear and went down to the den. The punching bag hung there like it was waiting for me. I hit it over and over. I did not know how long I punched it. I did not know when I stopped. All I remembered was darkness, and then the sunlight on my face as I woke up in my bed.
I raised my hand to block the brightness, and that was when I noticed the bandages wrapped around my knuckles. My hair spilled over the sides of the bed, pooling behind me as I sat up, the strands sticking to my damp skin.
As if they had been waiting for me to move, the head maid opened the door.
