Katarina’s POV
“f**k this,” I muttered, slipping the razor into my boot.
My hands were shaking, but not from fear. From rage. From knowing I almost died in my sleep, and no one cared. If Maribel hadn’t done whatever she did, I’d be the body getting dragged out in a sheet.
I wasn’t gonna wait around to be next.
I had to think. Plan. Play the game. Survival first—always.
I stared at my reflection in the cracked mirror in the girls’ dressing room. My face looked pale, and my eyes were red.
Tears hit the sink. Fast. Silent.
I wiped them quickly. “Get it together,” I whispered. “I slid the razor deeper into my shoe. Just in case. A girl needed insurance.
I tugged my cheap blouse straight, ran my fingers through my knotted hair, and walked out. My boots felt heavier. Or maybe that was j
