Chapter 41: Zola(1)
Damn, damn, damn!
Zola was in one of the hotel rooms. Her clothes were torn, her hair disheveled, and the room itself was in a deplorable state. Deep scratches, as if made by sharp claws, marked the walls.
Driven by the events that had transpired, Zola was on the verge of madness. At first, she tore at her own hair, and then she turned her destructive rage on the furniture in the room.
Everything was upside down. Wardrobe doors hung open, their contents scattered everywhere. Clothes lay in dirty heaps on the floor. The curtains hung in tatters, and the bed — somehow — had been flipped onto its side, as though a hurricane had swept through.
The hotel staff, stunned by the chaos, kept their distance. No one dared even to peek inside the room, granting Zola complete freedom in her destructive frenzy.
Three maids stood near the door, whispering nervously as they debated what to do.
"She's crazy, I swear!" one of them muttered, clutching a cleaning rag tightly in her trembling hands. "Why do these kinds of guests always show up on our shift?"
"Quiet!" the second maid hissed, her tone sharp and warning. "She's a noblewoman. Better not get involved, or we'll be the ones paying for this mess!"
"Then let's just leave!" suggested the third maid, her voice trembling with fear.
The three exchanged uneasy glances and quickly scurried away, leaving Zola alone in the wrecked room.
Zola had overheard their conversation but couldn't care less. Her thoughts were consumed by a singular, burning hatred.