Eloise brought the glass of whiskey to her lips, but as the liquid hit her throat, it felt like fire. She immediately began to cough, her body reacting violently to the burn. She coughed so hard that most of the whiskey spilled from her mouth, splashing across her shirt and the floor.
"Hey, Miss Anthony, the wine is expensive. Don’t waste it," George said with a sneer, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Around her, the others laughed, their voices mocking and loud. "Drink! Drink now!" one of them jeered, egging her on.
Someone else, voice laced with venom, added, "Miss Anthony doesn’t like it. Sammy, you should give her something better."
Laughter erupted again, filling the space with cruelty. Why do they hate me so much? Eloise’s heart sank as she looked around, trying to make sense of
