Chapter 30

• Leila
• My glass of water sweated in my hand, the chill of it seeping into my skin, a fleeting distraction from the man who stared at me.
• Then, Josephine stumbled in behind the waiter, a wreckage of a girl, her presence a jagged tear in the room's polished facade. She was in a perfect mess. Her eyes were swollen, red as raw meat, brimming with tears that glistened like broken glass. Her hair hung in greasy knots, a snarl of chaos framing her face, and her dress was a tattered rag, one sleeve ripped loose, flapping like a wounded bird. Two long scratches raked her legs, the skin puckered and pink, weeping just enough to stain the floor.