Elena's POV
It's either raining or snowing in Mondrovia. Sometimes, I wonder why I haven't moved from the city.
It will be nice to bask in the goodness of the sun. instead of skipping through puddles in my boots or holding high my umbrella against another drizzle.
But I have unresolved angst with the city; it took my mother from me, and the city itself is hunting me. At least that's what it feels like.
The past few weeks have been hell. It's like my boring life had been maxed out, and now I'm on a steady stream of ache, fights, and anger.
Since my attack a few weeks ago, it has been back-to-back attacks in my apartment, anywhere I'm alone, it's been psychic lunges, stinging pulls, cryptic messages all around me. I haven't had a moment of rest.
The rain had stopped, leaving the city streets slick and shining under the streetlamps.
I had walked home slowly, letting the dampness cling to my jacket as if it could wash away the tension from the last few days.
