A Splash of Colour
The loud slap echoed, and for a moment, he stood stunned, his grip on my arm loosening.
“I may come from a lowly background, but that doesn’t mean I’m like every other woman who sells her soul for money,” I spat, my voice trembling with rage.
I could already feel the sting in my eyes—the tears, unwelcome, threatening to spill.
But he scoffed.
“Right… like I’d fall for that trick again. Tears?” he said coldly. “You think crying’s going to convince me you’re innocent?”
What is wrong with this man?
“As if I care what you think of me!” My voice cracked, raw and furious. “I don’t even know who you are!”