Elena’s Point Of View

The night air hit me like a slap as I stormed out into the parking lot, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The valet called after me, his voice muffled by the roar of blood in my ears.

“Ma’am! Your car…”

Screw the car. I needed air. I needed space. I needed to breathe before I exploded.

My hands trembled, my fingers curled into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. The pain was grounding, a reminder that I was still ...