Sloane pov
The silence that followed was the loudest silence I had ever sat inside.
I pressed my feet flat against the floor and breathed. A sharp sting burned behind my eyes. My throat felt tight and dry, and I had to lock my jaw to keep from shaking. I squeezed my hands into fists, pressing my nails into my palms just to focus on a different kind of pain.
I looked at Isolde Maddox and tried to think of other things. I thought about the hardware store back in Ohio. I thought about my father dying too young, the long hours of waitressing to pay for school, and the years of people talking over me.
She is not the worst thing that has happened to me, I told myself. She is not even close.
