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Sheels Hemmingworth
Inside the elevator, alone and a little bit soaked, Hera stood. She was shaking a little, her palms on her chest. There was a mingled look of surprise and irritation drawing her face as she stared at her barely visible reflection. In the silence, the drumming of her heart was almost audible, a rapid tick that agitated her soul. As she shifted from where she’s standing, the elevator door opened. The three students stopped talking once they realized who’s inside. They looked at each other for a moment until the door started closing. Slipping in, Hera moved to the corner, fixing her hair so that it obscured her features.
Hera tapped her feet, trying to steady her breathing. Once in a while, the girls were glancing in her direction and those short moments of attention knotted her stomach and clenched her heart. It was almost a relief when she reached the seventh floor. Without looking at them, she swept past, but her expression turned blank at the party awaiting her.
The
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