er eyes gleaming with malice. She looked from the scu

ugh for everyone at the nearby tables to hear. "Coming here, try

t and, with a swift, violent motion,

ering pieces. The delicate sugar trees, the shimmering water, the work of months

d at the wreckage of my gift, the symb

locket at my neck. "And this fake piece of junk!" he yelled, yanking it hard. The delica

f pure rage and viola

h fury. He saw my scream not as a reaction to bei

he snarled. "Stop

n he sl

truck my cheek with brutal force, snapping my head to the si

You know," he said, his voice dripping with contempt, "if you beg me, right here, rig

ed the shattered sculpture, the stolen locket, the public humi

ng arrogance of it

t have to s

's name is g

s grandfather. He stood at the edge of the scene, his face a mask of co

the main doors of th

the scene in an instant: me, holding my cheek; the shattered remains of my

was lik