(Lena’s POV).
“Get out of here, we don’t want your kind here!”
Their voices hit me like whips. One scream turned into dozens, then hundreds—an echoing tidal wave of hate and disgust.
“She’s a freak!”
“Rejected and pathetic!”
“Murderer!”
The words pounded into my skull. My legs gave out, and I dropped to the cold concrete of the stadium steps, my body shaking violently as sobs tore through me. I couldn’t hold them back anymore.
Tears flooded my cheeks. I pressed my palms over my ears, but it did nothing. Their taunts still cut through—every voice like a dagger carving shame into my chest.
“I didn’t do anything,” I whispered brokenly, rocking slightly. “I didn’t mean to…”
But they didn’t care. The crowd saw me as a monster—something to laugh at, to scorn. I had never felt so smal
