BURIED AS HIS LOVE, REBORN AS HIS CURSE.
Calla's POV
The kitchen was dim, lit only by the under-glow of a single pendant lamp above the marble island. I stood barefoot on the cold tiles, wearing a long, black silk robe, my brown hair twisted in a loose knot.
A cup of coffee steamed between my hands . I couldn't wait till tomorrow to do this.. I'm so desperate to get this over with. Bullying has never been considered nice.
I already got four high-resolution photographs printed on matte paper showing Egi, curled up on the floor, surrounded by laughing children. Her drawing, defaced. A note scrawled in cruel, childish handwriting: “Loser. Crybaby. You deserve it.”
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