"You're just a frightened child, aren't you, Willow? That's what you've always been and what you'll always be, do you hear me?" His words are laced with disdain as he steps so close that his presence overwhelms my senses—his sight, his sound, his touch, and I despise it. I struggle to gulp down the rising lump in my throat and to hold back the tears that threaten to overflow as his cruel words reverberate in my mind. I feebly shake my head, attempting to step back, but he grips my shoulders firmly, compelling me to look into his dark eyes. Overwhelmed, I no longer feel shame when a solitary tear betrays me, drawing a derisive sneer from Eli. All I want is to distance myself from him, to flee from his stinging words. Yet, as I fight, his hold only tightens, his lips curling with spite at my desperation to break free. "Don't pretend to be brave when you're nothing but a coward," he taunts. "You're just weak, insignificant, and patheti—" That's when I slap him. Instant regret washes over me because nobody, absolutely nobody, strikes Eli Walters and escapes unscathed.