Fractured
Dane stirred, his voice still thick with sleep.
“You didn’t sleep, did you?” he asked, opening his eyes halfway.
I shook my head and forced a weak smile. “I couldn’t.”
He sat up beside me, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re troubled. Tell me what the issue is.”
For a moment, words stuck in my throat. I wanted to tell him everything—how Chris humiliated me in school and the way I feared everyone would use me and discard me when I was no longer useful—but instead, I whispered, “I don’t want to be hurt again.”
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