Consequence
Mocking, that internal reiteration which continued to haunt her. One might assume it happened when she was a teen, lonesome and entrapped within the vice of London. But she had been misused before that.
All of those words, misgivings, that she labelled herself.
Here they were. Echoing in the hall, settling into the atmosphere where only silence was the answer.
Rachel was atop the stage and in the spotlight for all to see. Some tragedy unfolding there. And she stood at the centre, ready to take the final bow.
But there was no applause. Only those words that she knew she would never forget.
Amanda Fenshaw. Prostitute. On her back.
That name felt so distant, unreal. It wasn't her name. Her name was Rachel Mason.
Yet, she knew what was to happen. She would take the consequence of someone else's misdeeds. A person she never knew. But something had to be done. She would not allow anybody to slander her name, not this time.
Rachel Mason did not take anything lying down.