Fiona
Ding.
Ding. Ding.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Ding.
I tug on my hair, nearly screaming as my phone continues to alert me to new messages. It dings and dings and dings until I finally snatch it up from the little table, peek at the screen, and then shut it off when I don’t see Ethan’s name.
It seems like everyone else in the world is sending me messages except for the one person I want.
My eyes burn, the overly familiar sensation becoming a constant feeling in my life as I blink away tears for the third time today. I’ve grown to hate crying, but I can’t seem to get away from it.
When Isla came down from her shower I was crying. Earlier in the day, I’d hidden in the supply room and cried. Now, in the darkness of my borrowed room, I’m crying again.
Turning over, I squeeze my eyes c
