Bright
I was sitting in the middle of my room, on the bed, with my back resting against the headboard. The food was sitting on the tray at the desk. The cook had been kind enough to bring it to me. I accepted it, but I didn’t eat. I wasn’t hungry.
The knot in my stomach wasn’t from the lack of food, it was from the overwhelming weight pressing down on my shoulders.
I told them I didn’t feel like having dinner, and that I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to pretend, to fake a relaxed face when a storm of anger was raging inside me. I didn’t want to see my parents or the owners of the house. Not even James, who I had argued with earlier because he hated me. And most of all, I didn’t want to see the one person responsible for this emotional chaos: Sophia.
I knew I needed her. I needed to see her. The thought of her burned me from the inside. I craved her voice, her presence —even her silence— but something was holding me back. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was prid
