CRYSTAL.
The moment I ran out of his room, I didn’t stop.
I didn’t care who saw me, or that my footsteps were loud against the polished floor, or that tears were still burning down my face. I just ran.
By the time I reached the dressing room, I slammed the door shut and collapsed on my knees onto the cold tiles.
My hands were shaking so violently that I pressed them against the floor just to steady myself. But it didn’t help. The tremors were inside me — in my chest, in my throat, in the part of me that still felt his mouth on mine.
How dare he?
I swear I didn't know who I should be more angry at – him, for making me feel the way I just did? Or me, for even letting myself feel anything at all?
I should’ve slapped him hard across the face and pushed him harder. I would have done anyt
