FRIDA
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I stood frozen on a spot as I listened to her drive her fist into the tiled wall. She stood in front of a small mirror, but punched the walls between the mirrors. I peeped at her from a small hole I had created by partially opening the door.
From the mirror, I could see her eyes sparkle with rage as she leered at me. Marika was furious. Her brown hair was scattered all over her head, flowing down her back, and tears had washed her mascara down her eyes.
Shit. She looked like a mess.
But what did I have to do with any of it? Why did she take it out on me? What was my role in what had happened to her?
I continued to ask myself, basking in my confusion.
A part of me wanted to step out and confront her, but I decided against it. Whatever the truth was, I had a feeling s
