She knew the bone snapped when she heard the flash of hot whiteness in her ankle, but she knew that the pain in her chest was worse than that of the broken bone.
Flash! Flash! Flash!
Every time the shutters fired, it sounded like a firing squad. Brianna tried crawling away to salvage what little dignity she had left, but the reporters closed in tighter and tighter forming a circle around her, as if they sensed that a dying creature lay before them, their lens so close to her terrified reflection that she could almost see herself reflected in the glass of the cameras.
"Look at the "Marriage Goddess" now… I simply cannot believe this is the face of a woman who sits in judgment of others on television."
Brianna's breaths were coming in short, jerky gasps. The insults were killing her; they were burying her alive. The cold, slick oil from the garage floor was seeping into her skin.
Infertility. Whore. Vampire.
