FrostI practiced some breathing techniques. In, out, in, out. In with the good energy, out with the bad. Paying attention to my breath sometimes helped with my anger. Right now, though, as Michelle pranced through the party like the belle of the ball, all eyes on her? Especially mine?
No f*****g way. I just stood there, hands balled into fists at my side, imagining what this douche bag’s face would look like with my fist in it. He’d probably end up spending about the same on the nose job he was going to need as he spent on that whole outfit.
She probably had to do this. I got that. She had to put on a show for Williams, to make it look like she was a good girl again, willing to play their game. But just because I rationally understood it, that didn’t mean I emotionally could. My knuckles
