Helene 

Two and a half weeks.

Two and a half fucking weeks since that nightmare at Vellmont Galleria, and the humiliation still sat in my chest like a knife that wouldn’t come out. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw myself crawling on that cold marble floor, forehead bleeding, calling myself a worthless stinky trash in front of everyone. The wound on my forehead had healed into an ugly scar, but the real damage ran deeper. It felt like Freya had shoved a dagger straight into my heart and twisted it. That wound refused to close. And it wouldn’t, not until I finally destroyed her.

Tonight was that night....