Hearing the familiar voice which always gave her the chills, Amy decided to ignore her, not in the mood for unfruitful conversations. Amy picked up her purse and leaned forward, getting up to leave. However, Lily pulled the sleeves of her blue gown, almost tearing the soft fabric, “And where do you think you're going.” she asked, her voice dripping with contempt.
Amy closed her eyes and inhaled a sharp breath. Ever so slowly, she turned to meet Lily's gaze, “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” she spelled out, her eyes fixed on her crumbled dress.
Lily smirked, “Or what?” she taunted, pulling the dress even harder. Sensing the brewing anger in Amy, Lily smiled in satisfaction. Whenever she was having a bad day, she always enjoyed getting Amy all worked up. From a hobby, it became an obsession.
