My side was hurting, and my hand felt like it had been through a meat grinder, but I forced myself to stand. I had the waterproof crate gripped in my good hand, the "treasure" that was supposed to be impossible to find.
I limped out of that cave, every step a reminder of Eliana's boot on my fingers. The storm was still howling, but the heavy rain felt like it was washing away the weakness in me.
I wasn't just any girl anymore; I was the girl who had tried to be killed but refused to die.
Images of how I used to use all the strength I had in my body to lift Eliana's and make sure she was safe flashed in my mind, and after all that, she pushed me. Stepped on my f*****g hand, breaking my bones.
How was she raised exactly? How did my parents raise her? She must have been filled with hatred
