The train of Sara's white lace gown draped down the marble stairs as Oliver kissed her, their bodies melding together as if they belonged that way. As if there had never been and could never be anyone else. People whistled and hollered as doves flew over their heads, and as the couple pulled apart to face their guests, their smiles were as bright as any spotlight. Their expressions were filled with the pure joy and unadulterated love that Laurel only dreamed of finding.

But when Sara's gaze fell on Laurel, the happy veneer shattered. Her mouth twisted and hardened into a triumphant smirk. She placed a possessive hand on Oliver's chest, right above his heart, claiming it as hers as her gold ring glinted in the midday sun. Laurel wanted to turn away, but she was chained in place. Leather chains ran across her torso, binding her, forcing her to watch helplessly as her baby sister stole the life that should have been hers.

Sara's eyes flashed a vivid bright green like a witch.

Why can't anyone else see how wrong this is? she thought desperately.

A car horn roared behind Laurel, and she flinched back to reality. The taunting, too-idealised image of the Queen Mansion faded into the white, fluffy clouds and green traffic lights, but she couldn't shake the overwhelming weight of loss and humiliation.

Her mouth felt parched and scratchy, and she forced her shaking hands to grip the steering wheel tightly. Sighing, she focused on the broken white lines dotting the asphalt to ground herself as she pushed down on the accelerator and drove through the clear intersection.

A few metres later, she turned right into the parking lot of her favourite restaurant and scooped into an empty spot near the entrance. Her mind was still foggy and all over the place, unable to settle on any one task. Turning off the car, she instinctively reached for the textbook on her passenger seat. A page or two of case law would help push that nightmare from her mind.

But her hand came up short.

Groaning, she hit her head against the back of her seat. Since she caught Oliver and Sara, exam prep had been her lifeline. Whenever that bone-crushing sorrow swept over her, threatening to pull her under until all she breathed was sadness, she threw herself into her study. She'd never felt more productive — or more fragile — in her life.

But now she'd sat the LSAT, all her textbooks were neatly stacked in her bookcase at home, leaving Laurel woefully distraction-less.

Sighing, she slid from the car and slung her handbag over one shoulder. She might as well go straight in. The idea of holding herself together for an hour or more felt impossible, but it beat falling apart in the car.

'Laurel? You're here early!'

She glanced up and forced a smile at Justin, who was crossing the parking lot from the opposite direction. His eyes shone brightly, and he looked better-rested than he had in weeks. Unlike her, the post-exam break suited him.

'Yeah, well, it beats having Sara follow me around the house all the time like a lost puppy,' Laurel said dryly. Seriously. Her sister was her shadow most days, never more than a few feet away, always with those imploring eyes and rushed apologies. 'And I'm not the only one.'

Justin shrugged. 'Traffic was light today. And knowing Brooke, she's probably already seated. Look at us, all punctual and responsible and lawyerly. I think we're becoming adults.'

'Here's hoping,' she said, laughing. 'Should we head in?'

They stepped through the front door to a whirlwind of chatter, clinking cutlery and mood music. Circular tables dotted the room, each sporting a delicate periwinkle tablecloth and a bright hydrangea centrepiece. The gentle floral perfume mixed invitingly with the strong scent of meat and chips. The seats were packed, and Laurel strained to block out the background noise as they wove across the room to the tables near the windows. As a rule, if there was a view, she wanted it.

Her dark mood lifted as they passed the corner where she'd dined with her family after her high school graduation, and the long banquet table where her friends had celebrated her twenty-first birthday, and the outdoor dining area where she'd had her first kiss with a boy from her Spanish class. Ollie had been such an important part of her life; for years, every plan and dream for the future revolved around him. But as hard as it was to move on and rethink everything she'd always wanted, some things could stay the same. She could still go to the same places and do the same activities; she'd just be accompanied by different people. She could adapt.

By the time they reached their table, Laurel's chest felt warm and her limbs were lighter than they'd been in weeks. Brooke was perusing a menu in front of a stunning view of the boats crossing the sparkling sapphire waters of Starling Harbour.

'This was a great idea,' Laurel said, slipping into the seat opposite Brooke and peering out at the landscape below. She'd been here often enough that she already knew her order, so she didn't waste time picking up a spare menu. 'No matter where we all end up going from here, when we all finish law school, we should do it again.'

'It can be a tradition,' Justin agreed. 'You know, I haven't sat down for a proper meal in ages. Every time I've eaten over the past few weeks, I've had a textbook propped up somewhere.'

He mimed using the centrepiece as a bookstand, and Brooke nodded in agreement. 'It's been crazy. I've never been more relieved to have finished something in my life.'

'It's hard to know what to do with all the spare time now, though, isn't it?' Laurel asked. Between the LSAT being over and the sudden awkwardness whenever she was around most of her social circle, she'd had more free time than she knew what to do with.

An all-too-familiar cologne brushed the edge of her senses, but she tamped down on the urge to stiffen and retreat. She was here to enjoy herself, not to get caught up seeing Oliver in random men. Wasn't seeing Sara in traffic lights already enough?

'Spare time?' Brooke raised her eyebrows. 'Speak for yourselves.'

All thoughts of paranoia and grief fled from Laurel's mind. Brooke's tone was light and unaffected, enough so that Laurel might have believed it if it weren't for her enhanced hearing. But a prickle of genuine irritation lurked beneath the surface.

Brooke added, 'I've been juggling two part-time jobs and full-time study for months. I'm just glad to actually be able to fit in a full night's sleep.'

Laurel winced and bit her lip. 'Right. Sorry.'

Next to the excessive wealth of the Queens and Merlyns, the Lances were firmly middle class. Comfortable enough, but unable to afford all the extravagences and luxuries that made up Oliver and Thea's everyday life. It was easy to forget sometimes that by most people's standards, Laurel was their Oliver.

'How is work?' Laurel asked awkwardly. Two sets of footsteps padded across the floorboards nearby; hopefully, one of them was their waiter, coming to save them from her faux pas.

'A means to an end. I can't wait to get out after law — '

Two men stopped beside Justin's chair, casting shadows over the table as they blocked the light from a nearby lamp. That same cologne was stronger now, and the skin on the back of Laurel's neck prickled as her stomach fell. She should never have ignored her gut instincts.

'Hey, Laurel.'

Pain twisted her insides as she brushed her hair over her shoulder and reluctantly met Oliver's gaze. His deep voice held its usual appeal, but for once, she wasn't charmed. Half a step behind him, Tommy gave her a thin, pained smile.

'Hello,' she replied frostily. 'Just passing through?'

Of course, ever since she introduced him to her favourite restaurant, it had become one of his usual haunts too, in the same way that they drank at the same clubs and strolled through the same parks. If she kept going to the places she always did, then it was inevitable she'd run into him sometime.

Maybe even while he was on a date with Sara. Bile rose in her throat at the idea of Oliver taking her sister out to all the places Laurel had shown him, like a beginner's course in how to impress Lance sisters. He probably wouldn't even remember the significance of half of them.

In hindsight, the red flags were glaringly obvious. She'd always realised she cared more for him than he did for her, but she'd still thought he loved her. Removing the blinders from her eyes would have saved her years of pain. Why did I stick around for so long?

Unable to stand Oliver's face any longer, she glanced at Tommy. His gaze kept flicking off to the left as if he'd rather be somewhere else. Whatever he had in mind, Laurel would be willing to bet she'd enjoy it more than this.

'Can we talk?' Oliver rocked forward slightly on his feet with an eagerness that only he felt. Either he wasn't picking up on everyone else's discomfort or he didn't care; knowing how self-centred he could be, both options were equally believable. 'There's a sitting area out the front.'

Laurel didn't even have to consider it. 'No. I'm happy here with my friends.'

His expression stuttered and fell, although she couldn't understand how even he could expect a different response. Didn't blocking his number show just how adamantly she didn't want to talk?

'How did your exam go?' he eventually asked, his eyes pleading for a response.

Leaning over to Justin, Brooke whispered, 'That's her ex.'

Annoyance prickled at her like a needle, sharp but fleeting. Between presenting mock trials and dating a billionaire playboy, Laurel was used to receiving attention in public. But not like this. Thankfully, Brooke's words were quiet enough that Laurel doubted anyone except her and Justin had heard.

'Oh,' Justin replied, a little louder.

Laurel ignored her friends' quick exchange. 'We haven't got our results yet.'

Oliver's expectant expression didn't waver. Did he really expect her to break down each question and her level of confidence in her answers the way she would have done before? It wasn't as if he ever really listened back then anyway.

Tommy cleared his throat, seemingly picking up on the signals Oliver was ignoring. 'Well, it's always nice to see you, Laurel, but we should go — '

'Thea misses you,' Oliver cut in, undeterred. 'I miss you.'

This isn't happening. Not here, not now, not ever.

'Guys, let's go somewhere else. It's too noisy here.' Laurel grabbed her handbag from beneath her chair.

'No,' Tommy said firmly, catching her before she could stand. 'You shouldn't have to leave. Ollie, I told you this was a bad idea. We'll go.'

'It'll just take a minute,' Oliver protested, but Laurel pointedly grabbed a menu and stared at it without reading until he sighed. 'Maybe next time.'

Tommy nodded to her as they left, and she smiled back, grateful for his intervention. Oliver could be stubborn as a bull when he wanted to be. She'd always found it endearing, a promising counterpoint to how happy he usually was to just drift with the flow. Now they were broken up, though, everything would be easier if he were a little less obstinate.

'Do you want to talk about it?' Brooke asked, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

Laurel took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on her face. Her body was screaming at her to leave — Oliver was still in the restaurant somewhere, and at any point, he might make another overture. It would be so much easier to just go to one of their places, where she could know for sure there would be no risk of seeing anybody she wanted to avoid. But they were here now, and her taste buds had been dreaming of the carbonara for hours.

And Tommy was right. She shouldn't let Oliver ruin this for her too.

'Nothing to talk about,' she said instead, trying her best to sound chipper. 'Brooke, you were saying something about work. You can't wait to get out?'

'Yeah,' Brooke said distractedly, still staring after Oliver and Tommy. Laurel squirmed in her seat. She was so used to their presence that they didn't feel like local celebrities anymore. It was always weird seeing someone she knew get googly-eyed over them. 'Um, yeah… It's definitely just a temporary gig.'

'Well, that's the whole point of the LSAT, isn't it?' Justin asked. 'Get into law school and never have to wait tables again.'

Brooke laughed and tore her gaze away from the retreating figures. 'I'll drink to that.'

Even as the conversation shifted to safer topics, Laurel couldn't relax. Dread had lodged in her stomach like a black hole, sucking in everything around it until nothing else remained. She joined in as they gossiped about classmates and fantasised about the future, and she did her best to sound as excited and carefree as her friends. But no matter what she did, it all felt hollow.

-x-

The morning sun warmed Laurel's skin as she huddled over her laptop on the back deck, biting her lip as she reread the introduction to her college application essay. In the week since her run-in with Oliver and Tommy, she'd thrown herself headlong into the first draft. She'd figured that if time couldn't heal this wound, perhaps productivity would.

But to date, all she had to show for her work was a few measly sentences. They weren't even good — stilted, forced, and far too cliché, the only thing they'd get her into was a remedial creative writing class. Law was a calling? Justice was her passion?

Ugh. I sound like some bad superhero wannabe.

With a huff, she highlighted and deleted everything she'd written, leaving herself with a painfully bright blank screen. Criminal defence had been her dream for as long as she could remember, and she'd imagined writing this essay all throughout undergrad. She even had a file saved to her desktop with a full page of snippets and ideas she'd collected over the years.

So why was it so hard to put together something coherent now? Why couldn't she justify her interest in law with anything more articulate than "I've always liked it"?

'You know why,' she muttered to herself. The idea of traipsing around the University of Starling City, surrounded by people who read the tabloids and knew all about her sudden breakup, then going home to a house she shared with her sister… Well, it sounded like torture. How could she ever move on when reminders stalked her every move?

Laurel needed to get out of here.

She'd never considered studying anywhere other than Starling City. Even though Oliver could technically have moved with her — the only thing tying him here was his family and friends, and with their private jet, distance was barely an obstacle — she'd known without asking that he never would. Even for the short length of her law degree, he would never have left Starling's nightlife for her. And given how often he cheated on her when they were living in the same city, she'd known moving away without him would have signed a death warrant on their relationship.

But that relationship was now dead and buried anyway, so maybe a death warrant was exactly what they needed.

Besides, while the University of Starling City performed decently on all metrics, there were far better law programs out there. It didn't even brush the shoulders of the Ivy League.

Excitement shot through her veins like lightning. For the first time in weeks, she felt purposeful — energised — alive.

Minimising her empty document, she switched to her internet browser and searched for a list of the best law schools in the country. She knew the major names, but not the full scope of what was out there.

It was well past time she found out.

Just how much had Oliver held her back over the years? She'd tethered herself to Starling so he wouldn't stray despite knowing it would be limiting for her career. She'd never fully explored her Sentinel abilities because they were a sore spot for him, making do with the lessons her father put her in as a child instead of continuing to develop her senses. She'd twisted herself to be as small as she could in the hopes of fitting into his life instead of becoming who she wanted to be.

Oliver was a better version of himself when they were together: sweeter, more affectionate, even marginally more self-aware. Laurel had taken that as a sign they were good for each other, never questioning whether it might actually mean the opposite. But she deserved to be with someone who made her better, too.

All this time, maybe her father had been right. Instead of fighting so hard to anchor Oliver in place, she should've released the rope long ago, throwing up her hands and letting him drift wherever the current took him.

-x-

Tommy touched the doorknob to his mother's old sitting room before letting his hand fall to his side. The sleek mahogany wood was no different than elsewhere in the mansion, yet it felt so much weightier in his hand. After his mother died, his father had ordered the housekeeper to gather up all her belongings and stash them in there. Then, he'd locked the door and banned Tommy from setting foot inside.

For the most part, he needn't have bothered. Apart from one drunken night while his father was away on a work trip, when Tommy had opened the door only to be too afraid to step inside, Tommy had never even turned the handle. As far as he knew, even his father avoided the place like the plague. The room was a tomb, a pristine, untouchable memorial not only to his mother, but also to the happy, optimistic, caring man his father used to be. In a sense, both of Tommy's parents had died in that alleyway when the mugger pulled the trigger.

Shaking his head, Tommy balled his hand into a fist. He couldn't think about that night. It was too soon — would always be too soon, too much, too dangerous. If he opened the floodgates and let all of that grief and regret sweep over him, what would be left of him when the dam dried back out? Not the easygoing, adventurous kid, that was for sure.

But surely he could just duck in and out without all that weight crashing down on him. His mother's book on the language of flowers was in there somewhere. She'd read it to him when he was young and, complete with photographs, histories and example bouquets, it was more comprehensive than anything he'd found online.

Usually, he wouldn't have cared. It had been years since he'd even thought of the book. But according to Thea, over the past few weeks, Laurel had been accepted into every law school she'd applied to. While Tommy didn't understand the appeal of working so hard just to earn the privilege of more work, he knew how much it meant to her. A feat that impressive deserved to be commemorated.

His first instinct was to go big, like her own jet ski, but then he'd remembered a free period back in high school when Laurel had gushed about how a character in a movie had given his girlfriend a message via a bouquet of flowers. Tommy had mentioned offhandedly how his mother used to match flowers based on their meaning, and she'd spent a good ten minutes picking his brain on the topic. Besides, if she ended up staying in a college dorm in the middle of some desert, what use would she have for a jet ski? An extravagant gift could wait until her next graduation.

He knew what she'd appreciate more, in any case.

Pulse beating loudly in his ears, Tommy eased the door open. The room was dark. Thick, heavy curtains covered the windows, blocking out all but a tiny sliver of daylight.

Through the gloom, Tommy could just make out the faint shape of cupboards and bookshelves. He took a deep breath and, for the first time since his mother died, turned on the light.

The room was neater than he'd expected, with no trace of dust or cobwebs. His father must have given Julia permission to enter for cleaning. The bookshelves were brimming with books of varying sizes and colours, from novels to gardening manuals and non-fiction to travel guides. Matching glass display cases enclosed trinkets and souvenirs from all the places she'd been over the years. In one corner, clothes were neatly stacked in see-through moving boxes. A flash of pink caught his attention, and before his brain could catch up with his feet, he was moving across to the far corner and unclicking the plastic lid.

The soft, hardy fabric of her favourite pink coat flowed through his fingers. Vivid yet robust, she'd always cheerfully proclaimed it was the best of both worlds. How many times had she strolled through the fog to pick him up from hockey in that coat, the brightest burst of colour in this otherwise grim city?

Back then, Tommy had never realised just how fortunate he was to have her. He should have treasured every moment, memorising every conversation and hug before it was all gone.

His eyes prickled, and he blinked rapidly against the urge to cry. The fabric crinkled under his tightening grip, and he let go, not wanting to ruin this like he ruined everything else in his life. I can't do this.

Dodgy internet sites would have to suffice. Closing the box, he strolled out of the room, switched off the light, and closed the door, all without glancing back once. It was too much and too soon, and it always would be.

Perhaps, for once, his father was right.

'What are you doing?' demanded a harsh voice. 'I told you not to go in there. I know you're not good at following instructions, but surely even you can manage this.'

Tommy swore internally. His father had left early for a work meeting, which usually would have bought him a few hours of peace. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he straightened and turned to face his father's stern scowl. His gaze burned with rage as it moved between Tommy and the closed door.

Odd, he thought dryly. That's the most emotion you've shown around me in a long time.

'I was looking for a book,' he said. His father glanced down at his empty hands, and the worst of his fury faded from his expression.

Of course, the thing he cares about most is that I didn't take anything out. Who cares that she was important to me too?

'Don't worry, though. I won't be going in again.'

To his surprise, his father let it go. Then again, their lives over the past fifteen years had been built on the foundation that they never brought up what had happened. Apparently, the one thing that trumped Malcolm Merlyn's disappointment in his son was his desire to never speak about their shared loss.

-x-

Laurel put on an upbeat pop record as she packed her clothes to leave home for the University of Chicago. Her gut twisted at the idea of moving so far away, yet at the same time, excitement overwhelmingly pumped through her veins at the idea of leaving everything she knew behind and starting fresh. Ever since she ran into Oliver and Tommy at the restaurant, she'd been pushing herself to explore new places and try new things. How many more new restaurants and parks and activities would she be able to sample in Chicago? Who might she become when she was no longer weighed down by the pressure of who everyone expected her to be?

She touched the shiny college brochure resting on top of her bed and smiled. The campus looked gorgeous, with sprawling Gothic architecture, ivy-covered walls, and plenty of grassed areas to lounge around and read. It even had an active Sentinel and Guide organisation, which she figured she'd join once she'd settled in.

Best of all, it was the perfect mix of "far enough away to have a blank slate" and "close enough to fly home in one night". Even her father, the only person whose opinion she'd worried about, had wholeheartedly supported her decision.

The floorboards creaked, and a faint floral scent wafted through the open door. Sara's perfume was unmistakable. Laurel kept her back to her as she pulled her winter coat from her cupboard and carefully folded it. Hopefully, if she ignored Sara, she'd go away.

'Can we talk?'

'No.' She shoved her coat into the suitcase with more force than was strictly necessary.

In the immediate aftermath of that night, Sara had tried to make amends every day, then every week, before finally giving up and resorting to just watching Laurel from a distance. She'd hoped her sister's silence meant she'd realised they were never going to move past this, but apparently, Sara had just decided to bide her time in the hope Laurel's anger would die down.

Some hurts couldn't be fixed with a band-aid and a lollipop. Some betrayals cut too deep to forgive.

'I'm sorry,' Sara said. 'The second it was over, I regretted it.'

'Not enough to stop screwing him, though.' Laurel didn't care about the bitterness seeping into her words. While they'd apparently separated after she discovered them, that hadn't lasted long. As soon as they'd realised she was serious about not taking Oliver back, their drunken mistake had turned into a full-blown relationship, complete with tabloid photos and everything. The society pages loved them almost as much as Laurel hated them. After how hard she'd fought to keep Oliver committed to her, it stung that he had no problem committing to her sister.

Her chest tightened as her breath rattled unsteadily in her chest. Even though she knew she was better off without him, it didn't stop the pain at the slight.

'I'll stop if it makes a difference.'

'You're both adults,' Laurel said, trying to sound glib and hating how far short she fell. 'You can screw who you want to screw.'

More to the point, Laurel didn't want it getting back to Oliver that his actions still affected her. He might take it as encouragement just when he'd finally given up on getting back together. With a sigh, she turned to face Sara; it didn't look like she'd be making progress with packing anytime soon. Sara was lingering outside the threshold to her room as if she wanted to enter but knew she no longer had the right to.

While she was here, Laurel might as well get an answer for something that had been eating away at the back of her mind for weeks now. Curiosity burned away the tears welling in her eyes until all that was left was determination.

'Okay, you want to talk? Fine. I have a question for you.' Ignoring Sara's grimace — what did she think she was going to ask? — Laurel pushed on. 'That night, when you snuck in… you wanted me to work it out, didn't you? You've complained about my senses enough over the years that you wouldn't have just forgotten them.'

'Yes.' Sara wrapped her arms around herself, looking for a brief instant like the wide-eyed little girl she'd once been. 'I didn't want to lie to you but didn't know how to come out and tell you the truth either.'

Laurel appreciated that. If Sara had wanted to, she could've showered and waited until Laurel left for her study group to return home, leaving her none the wiser. 'Thank you, but it doesn't change what you did.'

'I would undo it all if I could.'

Laurel shrugged. 'I wouldn't. Even if you turned him down, he still would have cheated that night. And if it were a random girl, I never would've found out.' She didn't think she would ever forgive Sara, but she didn't hate her enough to want her to endure what she had. 'Don't get too attached. He doesn't love you. He cheated before, and he'll cheat on you, too.'

'It wouldn't be cheating. We're not exclusive.' Sara glanced at her suitcase. 'Can I help?'

'I'm done here.' Laurel zipped up her suitcase and ran through her list one last time to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. 'Dad's going to drive me to the airport. If he invites you to see me off, say no.'

Sara nodded. 'I hope you find what you're looking for.'

You too, Laurel thought, though she wasn't ready to say it.

-x-

Two nights later, Laurel sat cross-legged on the bed of the studio apartment she was renting. Small to the point of feeing cramped, overlooking a busy street, it had no view to boast of — just bricks and mortar and passing cars. But it was calm, and it was hers. Originally, she'd considered finding a place on campus, but then she'd remembered how rowdy Oliver and Tommy always got when they were drunk. She'd happily traded in the convenience of living on campus for the peace and quiet of living on her own.

Besides, the commute wasn't that long.

Glancing around, she savoured the look of all her photo frames and books displayed around the room, the perfect mix of sentimentally old and promisingly new. Only one thing was out of place. With a sign, she reached out for the vaguely rectangular present perched on her bedside table. Wrapped in gold paper with a pink bow, it had arrived at her new address just hours after she did. According to a quick text from Tommy, he'd run out of time to drop it off before she left — it was just like him to organise something thoughtful but not think the logistics through. In all likelihood, the gift would be extravagant and well-meaning, and not at all practical for someone living in a studio apartment.

Slipping her finger under the wrapping paper, she tore it open, only to blink in surprise.

Vibrant, beautiful flowers blossomed from a silver chrome pot, with petals ranging from soft pink to deep purple and vivid yellow. Sleek yet simple, it was the kind of thing that would suit a mansion just as well as a studio apartment. Touching the fake petals, she marvelled at how soft and realistic they were.

A small note was pinned to it, along with a printout. In Tommy's messy writing, the note read: Because you'll be too busy defeating bad guys and defending the innocent to grow the real thing.

Laughing, she flipped over to the printout. It was from a website and contained the meanings of several different types of flowers, with a few of them highlighted for emphasis. At the bottom, he'd scrawled out a quick summary.

'Daffodils for the new beginnings and rebirths that you'll find in Chicago,' she read out loud, touching the soft yellow petals before moving on. 'Proteas for your courage and resourcefulness, and gladiolus for your strength of character. Purple irises for my compliments at your success with the LSAT, as well as for that boring wisdom you'll learn at law school. And finally, peonies for the happiness, health and prosperity that awaits you one day.'

Her amusement settled into something warmer and softer in her chest. Years ago, she'd told Tommy and Oliver how intrigued she was by the idea of bouquets being used to send messages of love, support or warning. At the time, she'd been dropping hints to Oliver for Valentine's Day, but he'd gone with a generic red rose instead.

Apparently, after everything, Tommy had remembered. It was a shame he'd always been more Oliver's friend than hers, but maybe one day, when everything had cooled down, they'd be able to rebuild their friendship on new foundations.

She set the flowers down on her bookshelf, then turned off the light and settled into bed.

But it was hours before she could drift asleep. For the first time in her life, all her plans were out the window. Thoughts bounced around her head like balls in a pinball machine as emotions swirled within her, spiralling into a raging whirlwind. She was adrift without a paddle, and all at once, it was terrifying and exciting and utterly liberating.

She was finally free.