“You love playing jokes? Fine. I’ll play with you to the end.”
A group of teammates gathered, staring in shock.
I finally released her. Her hair was a mess, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
“Emily, are you crazy? Do you want to kill me?” she cried, trying to act pitiful as more people arrived.
I calmly wiped my hands with a tissue.
“Kill you? Please. I’d be afraid to dirty my hands.”
“I just want you to know—some jokes are not to be made.”
She cried even harder.
“Everyone, look at her! I was only joking, and she nearly beat me to death. She’s paranoid and doesn’t deserve to share the stage with us.”
The Runway Director stormed in, furious.
“What is going on here?!”
The moment Vanessa saw the director, she put on her best performance—tears flowing, her pitiful act almost Oscar-worthy.
She clutched her swollen face and sobbed in a trembling voice.
“Director, we were just fooling around. I didn’t expect Emily to suddenly go crazy and start hitting me.”
I gave a cold laugh and looked at everyone.
“Fooling around?”
“Deliberately altering my outfit so it exposed my underwear on stage—you call that fooling around?”
“What?”
The Runway Director’s face darkened. The bystanders began to murmur.