It had been hours since Lila arrived home. However, the woman did not show any signs of moving. She remained seated at the foot of her bed. Her face was as pale as a sheet. She was gnawing at her thumb ever so vigorously while she couldn't seem to stop her right leg from shaking.
The memory of the incident continued to haunt her mind like a broken radio that kept on repeating, plunging her deeper and deeper into the abyss of fear.
Her heart would not calm down even though she had tried to breathe many times. In fact, she had only felt worse and worse as the clock ticked away. Then, not long afterwards, even breathing became difficult for her. A layer of cold sweat had long covered her temple.
The incident that should not have been her fault was eating away at her soul. No one knew since when, but the confidence she had shown in front of Jane had slowly disappeared, eroded by the overflowing panic.
