The air in the confines of the dimly lit storage room felt heavy, suffocating.
Velma knelt on the cold, unforgiving ground, her body trembling slightly.
Her messy clothes hung loosely, as though they might slide off at any moment.
And her once-bright eyes were now dull, lifeless.
Before her stood Bianca—arrogant, furious, and composed in her cruelty.
The noble girl's pristine appearance was unmarred.
Her luxurious attire a stark contrast to Velma's disheveled state.
Three other girls, Bianca's loyal clique, lingered behind her.
Their sneers and disdainful gazes piercing Velma like daggers.
"Do you really think you're better than us, Velma?"
Bianca's voice was cold, her words dripping with condescension.
"Is that why you refused to join my team for the mid-terms?"
Velma didn't answer.
Her lips were pressed tightly together.
Her head bowed in silent defiance.
Inside, her mind churned with regret and exhaustion.
She had tried so hard to please Bianca and her clique.
