"This worthless tramp can't do anything, so she's just throwing a tantrum. Hahaha!"
"What a disgrace. If I were her, I'd have already offed myself."
The parents held me down. They mocked me. They spat their contempt like it was currency and they were rich with it. And the bystanders were no better. They spat at me. Actual spit, landing on my clothes, my arms, my face. They hurled insults with the casual ease of people who had never once considered that the woman on the ground beneath them might be someone they should fear.
Luna basked in it. She soaked in their support the way she had soaked in their flattery, and when she was full, when she was swollen with it, she walked toward me and drove her sharp, high heel into my face.
The point of the stiletto pressed into my cheekbone. I felt the skin split. A thin line of heat.
"Hahaha! Regret?" Luna laughed. "I've never regretted anything in my life. I'd love to see how someone like you could make me regret a thing."
The heel pressed harder.
I didn't make a sound.