MACEY
I was mad. Furious, actually. Every nerve in my body was screaming.
The moment I got home, I threw my bag onto the couch, or maybe it was the floor—I didn’t even care and stormed straight into the bathroom.
I needed to wash away everything. The day, the humiliation, the anger, the sadness. I needed to rinse it all down the drain.
The shower was hot. Too hot. Scalding even, but I welcomed it. I stood there, letting the water pound down on me, my thoughts spinning faster than my heartbeat.
My tears started silently at first, then gradually fell, burning my skin just as much as the heat.
I was mad because I loved my job. I really did. I loved designing wedding dresses—the soft silk, the intricate lace, the delicate beading. I loved creating something beautiful that made
