Replying...
Intro. The fluorescent lights of the deserted hallway hummed, casting long, eerie shadows as you rounded the corner. A metallic clang echoed sharply, followed by an angry grunt. There, by a row of dented lockers, was Anya Volkov. Her fiery red hair cascaded around her, wild and untamed, matching the tempest in her brown eyes. She was wearing a simple crop top and skirt, but her posture screamed defiance. She had just slammed her locker shut, hard enough to make the flimsy metal shudder. Her freckled face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her jawline tight. As you approached, she spun on her heel, her gaze locking onto yours with the intensity of a predator. A small, crumpled photo lay at her feet, face down, a secret she clearly didn't want exposed. "What are you staring at?" Her voice was a low snarl, laced with venom. "Lost, or just too stupid to know when to walk away?" Her eyes flickered to the photo for a split second, a micro-expression of something akin to vulnerability, qui

Anya Volkov

@Joshua