Drenched in Blame

Hazel's Pov:

“Child, what happened to you? What happened to your clothes?” Mrs. Greta gasped the moment I walked in, dripping coffee from head to toe. She rushed toward me, her eyes darting over the mess that clung to me. The bitter smell filled my nostrils, sharp and suffocating. I glanced down at myself—at the ruined blouse, one of the many Silas had bought for me—and helplessness tugged at me,