That night I wake up in excruciating pain and the scream tears out of my throat before I can stop it, and I roll off the couch clutching my stomach while white hot agony rips through my ribs like something is trying to claw its way out of me.
Mom bolts upright from the bedroom and she is beside me in seconds, and she drops to her knees on the floor while I curl into myself and gasp for air that will not come properly.
“Lainey what is it,” she cries, and her hands hover over me because she does not know where to touch without hurting me more.
I cannot answer her because the pain spikes again and I feel like my insides are twisting violently, and flashes explode behind my closed eyes without warning.
Ezra.
Gianna.
Skin against skin.
His hands on her.
Her mouth on him.
The images are
