Hillary
I cover my ears with my headphones and bury myself under my thick blanket. I try to close my eyes and sleep, but the tears prickle anyway, stinging the corners until they spill sideways, tracing down my cheeks. I let them fall.
The way he yelled at me.
The look on his face, like I was something ugly, something he wanted to tear apart with his bare hands.
I should’ve been more careful. Or just ignored him.
Every Breath You Take by The Police blasts into my ears, and I sob harder, like it’s some tragic song meant for broken people. I yank off the headphones and fling them aside, curling tighter into the blanket until I cry myself to sleep.
“What is wrong with you?! What is wrong with you?!”
Bentley’s voice from last night is the first thing that plays in my head when I wake up
