EVELYN
I hadn’t moved an inch since this morning.
I sat curled up on the cold floor beside the bed, my arms wrapped around my legs with my body stiff. My pencil jeans still clung to my waist, filled with dried tears and sweat, and my chiffon top was wrinkled, as if it, too, had suffered through the storm in my head.
I blinked slowly, my eyes heavy with exhaustion, and my chest tight with worry. A dark thought crept in again. A fleeting idea, one I had to kill before it took root.
Killing myself won’t ever sort anything.
“No.” My own voice startled me. It was hoarse and cracked, but it sounded final. I squeezed my arms tighter around my legs, digging my nails into my skin just to feel something real. The temptation of an escape was a trick, a lie my mind told itself when it couldn’t find another way out. But there had to be another way. There had to be.
The tears came without permission. A silent cascade slipped down my cheeks, warm against my too-cold skin. I sniffled absentmindedly,
