She wanted money, popularity and respect. She had lost a sense of who she truly was and allowed worldly pleasures to define her. She was beautiful, smart and desired. But pride had made her a completely different person.
Saint saw all that in her yet she had rejected him.
“I know him,” she didn’t know how or why she suddenly said it, but the words came out before the third strike which she was sure would have ended her life. “I know the young man that that girl didn’t allow you to take with you this afternoon.”
This stopped the heavy fist from landing on the beautiful blood-stained face.
“What do you mean by that? How can you know the writer?” It was Ghaoul’s voice.
“I know Saint; he used to be my boyfriend in school. He really loved me,” she managed to say; “He will listen to me beca
