H L Girton

The Healer H L Girton

I was nothing, a washed up, useless nobody to them. The angered look that permanently etched my face wasn't new for any of them. The resting bitch face was something that defined me, Davina, the spoiled, unhappy, selfish brat. I suppose they were right about that. I really wasn't a happy go lucky girl. I didn't carry around a cheery disposition. I didn't grow up showered with love and affection or dolls and ponies. I wasn't a pampered princess like that. No. I was raised with wolves.