When Wyleen’s head was done throbbing and she could stand without getting dizzy, she made her way to the conjoined restroom. She patted her face with cool water and admired the bruising on her face, only now being able to see for herself. Wyleen wasn’t mad at Katakuri, but at herself for breaking concentration and at “My damn father.” She muttered, gripping the sides of the sink. It was because of him that she and Katakuri had a slight rift between them right now; it was his fault she was taken as a glorified prisoner, his fault she was put in the position she was in. Audibly growling, Wyleen swiped everything off the counter in her frustration before sitting on the floor of the bath to put her face in her hands and cry silently in the middle of the mess she had made.
“Hey girlie, what’s
