TIARA THORNELLS
I was motionless, staring at the palm of my hand. Just a short while ago, a sharp shard from the broken porcelain vase had sliced into my skin. I had seen the blood, felt the sting, but now there wasn’t even a scratch. My skin looked completely untouched, smooth and flawless as if nothing had ever happened.
As I sat in that daze, still trying to understand what I was seeing, a loud bang echoed through the house. The front door slammed shut violently, thrown by the strong wind outside. The sudden noise pulled me back to reality. I stood up quickly and hurried to the main door, closing it properly this time and locking it.
I turned back and walked toward the small wooden table in the hallway. The broken shards of porcelain were still scattered across its surface, their sha
