The girl sketched her name in the slush.
Her mother had picked her name adoringly and had told her before she was sentenced,
“Women's strong qualities have become despised because of their weakness. The obvious remedy is for you to not give in to their predictions but to become a beauty with all the strength of a storm plus all the allure of a good and beautiful woman.”
That was her name.
Claie has once told her that the name did wonders for her, already emphasizing how exquisite she had become.
Her last thought before she saw the beady pair of eyes staring back at her, making her mind freeze, and her blood run cold.