Val’s P.O.V

The basement corridor of the fine art building smelled like mildew and regret. The class we were in wasn’t as sophisticated or tidy as others, we’d just sneaked in because we did not want any staff questioning our stay after school in case Reynolds and Jax took long to return. I think it was the most patient and anticipating that I have been especially compared to the last few days. Vienna’s heels click-clacked on the cracked floor design seeming even to crack the ground ...