22

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Natalia cursed as she angrily swiped at the tears that slipped down her cheeks. She had fought hard to keep them from spilling in front of Brad, so she was proud that she managed to hold it together long enough for her to make it into the safety of her car.

It had been so long since she’d let the hurtful names get to her.

“You’re becoming soft,” she chuckled bitterly. Back in school she’d been prepared for them so she’d forged a wall of steel and kept her emotions locked up tight behind it. But now—now she wasn’t quite as prepared as she used to be. Still the words hurt just as bad now as they did then.

“What did you expect, you idiot. You knew what people were thinking,” she argued with herself. Yes, it was bad enough knowing what people were thinking, but worse to hear it from their lips.

She glanced into her rearview mirror and swore again. Brad was still following her.