Cold shower

As I approached Damon, a sense of apprehension gnawed at my insides, my steps hesitant and cautious. His usually composed and aloof demeanor is now twisted into a mask of fury and rage, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

Before I can even utter a word, his hand collides with my cheek in a stinging slap, the force of the blow sending shockwaves of pain radiating through my skull. I stumble backward, my vision swimming with tears as I struggled to comprehend the sudden onslaught of violence.

But Damon isn't finished yet. With a strong grip on the collar of my dress, he yanks me towards him, his face so close to mine that I could smell his breath, it reeks of alcohol and bitterness. It is then that I realize he's drunk, his senses clouded all the alcohol he took.

As he glares down at me with a mixture of what seems like contempt and disdain, a very sickening realization dawns upon me. Penelope, of course it has to be Penelope.

That scheming biatch.