Abby
My body feels as though it doesn’t belong to me as I stalk to the breakroom. I feel like a puppet on strings that have been cut, like my limbs are made of lead and my body might give out from beneath me at any moment.
When I’m alone in the breakroom once again, though, I can’t contain my fury any longer.
“Dammit!” The word explodes out of my mouth, and without thinking, I whirl around and let my shoe connect with the wall. There’s a faint but satisfying crack, and when I pull away, there’s a slight dent where I unleashed my rage.
It’s almost laughable, seeing how small the dent is. It’s like my own body won’t even do what I want, let alone the ingredients on that stage out there.
My mind is whirling with so many thoughts that I barely even register the door creaki
