Kayla Cumsalot 1844-332-2639 Ext 357
I once was prey, just like you. Weak, unseeing…mortal. That was until one late night in October when I got separated from my friends after a girls’ night in the city. We’d been drinking way too much and stumbled out of the club, intending to walk back to our hotel.
One minute, I was behind them, and then my high heel got stuck in a grate. I bent down in the street to wiggle it free, and when I looked up again, they were gone. The road had been crowded and loud, but as I scanned either direction for my friends, the entire street was eerily quiet. Under the street lights, only puffs of steam stretched across the space between buildings. Finally, I called out for them, standing up with one shoe in my hand.
