Seraphina's Point Of View
I leaned my head all the way back against the headrest of my chair, staring blankly at the smooth white ceiling panels while my fingers rhythmically tapped a chaotic, uneven beat against the armrest. The cold water had stopped the immediate panic, but the raw, buzzing frustration underneath remained very much alive and well. My pulse still thrummed too fast beneath my skin, a reminder that control was a performance I was barely maintaining.
"Knowing them," I sighed, my voice bouncing hollowly off the walls of my office, "they'll never admit to it. Not in a million years. They're probably sitting out there right now, whispering behind their manicured hands, waiting and watching to see what I can actually do about it." I paused, letting the bitter taste of the words settle on my tongue. "I'm completely sure they're incredibly smug right now. They think they've backed me into a corner I can't climb out of."
