The Face of Hatred
3RD POV:
Hannah’s mother was sobbing hysterically, her makeup running down her face in black streaks. She looked like she’d aged ten years in the past few hours.
Her father was shouting at the officers, his voice hoarse and desperate, insisting loudly that there had been some kind of mistake. That they had the wrong people. That they couldn’t prove anything.
But Janet. Janet wasn’t crying or shouting.
She simply glared at everything and everyone with a venom so palpable, so intense, that even the firefighters who were still working on the blaze paused to look at her.
Lucas saw her first. And the second his eyes locked on Janet’s face, something inside him completely snapped.
All the fear he’d been feeling. All the grief. All the hours of not knowing whether Hannah was alive or dead. The horrible realization that Janet had set that building on fire with his best friend trapped inside.
It all surged upward inside him like lava erupting from a volcano.
He stormed toward her so fast and with such fury in his eyes that two officers immediately moved to intercept him, reaching out to hold him back.
“LET ME GO!” he yelled, struggling against their grip. He was still trying to get at Janet, trying to at least get one punch in or one slap, just something. “Let me go!”
“Sir, you need to calm down,” one of the officers said firmly.
“Lucas, STOP!” Martin yelled, running after him. But his voice barely registered through the red haze of Lucas’s anger.
Lucas’s entire body was trembling with rage as he stared at Janet through the gaps between the officers holding him back. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked with emotion.
“You tried to kill her,” he said, and his voice rose with each word. “You tried to kill her! You set a building on fire with her trapped inside! She’s supposed to be your sister! Your own blood!”



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