Savannah hit send, and swallowed down her tears before curling into a little ball on the sofa. She clutched at herself as she tried her best to suppress the tears that were streaming freely down her cheeks.
In the silence of her apartment, Savannah knew that she deserved everything that had come to her; the haunting, the sleepless nights, and these wracking pain that she felt as these fresh tears stung her eyes.
Morning came, and had Savannah not put a reminder in her phone she may not have remembered her counselling appointment. She dragged herself from her bed, and forced herself to get dressed - though she didn’t have the energy to put much effort into it. The young painter swept her greasy red locks into a messy bun that rather resembled a rat’s nest, threw on the least smelly t-shi
