Tense shot.

DEVINA'S POV

I bit my nails, starting from my left thumb as I clenched my teeth on it until it stung. Tearing off the extension from my finger, I spat out the nail and moved on to the next — my middle finger. I wasn't a fan of biting off the nails of my index finger, or my pinky one either. That was gross. I preferred to stick to my thumb, my middle, and my ring finger. Those made the biting more comfortable and didn't make me have to arch my wrist in an odd angle.

I was very much aware that biting your nails wasn't exactly the best of habits, neither was getting so frustrated that you'd pull on your hair until you'd accidentally tug quite a few strands off. I wasn't so much of an innate peasant that I didn't know that much. But, ultimately, I had to choose one of the two as a coping mechanism, and I wasn't so sure I wanted to be walking about and parading the streets while the blazing sun would shine on my bald head with an unforgiving heat. That seemed like a special kind of tortu