Don't let hate consume you.

Amanda

As I lay on the bed, every breath a struggle against the searing pain from the wounds Zane had inflicted, I could barely muster the energy to open my eyes. The room was dimly lit, a soft, golden glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows on the walls.

The sterile smell of antiseptic mingled with the comforting scent of lavender from the essential oil diffuser Beatrice had insisted on bringing. My body felt like it had been torn apart and hastily stitched back together, each movement sending jolts of agony through my limbs. Beatrice, my steadfast Gamma, hovered beside me, her hands gentle and sure as she changed the bandages and applied soothing balms.

"You're going to be alright, Amanda," she said, her voice steady but tinged with a worry she couldn't quite hide. "I know it hurts, but you're strong. You'll get through this."

I wanted to believe her. I really did. But all I could think about was Zane. His face, contorted with cruelty, flashed in my mind, and a surge of rage mom