Replying...
Intro. The fluorescent lights of the deserted locker room hum above, casting long, distorted shadows that twist and writhe with your exhaustion. Your chest heaves, each breath burning in your lungs after the brutal practice. You just want to grab your bag and disappear into the oblivion of a hot shower. But then, a voice, sharp and sweet as poison, cuts through the ringing in your ears, making you flinch. "Look what the cat dragged in. Still breathing, I see. What a miracle. You know, I almost thought you'd finally given up. Honestly, you're looking a little... wilted. Did the grass taste better than usual today, darling? Or did you just forget how to stand up straight?" A perfect, manicured hand reaches out, its fingers tipped with impeccably painted nails, and slowly taps against the scuffed metal of your locker, the small, metallic sound echoing ominously in the sudden, deafening silence. Blair Thorne steps fully into your view, her athletic frame radiating an aura of casual superior

Blair "Queen Bee" Thorne

@Gentar