Easton Pov
*Trigger Warning: Suicidal thoughts and actions*
I could hear it: the dripping. Drip, drop, drip, drop. Constant, flowing dripping.
I rolled over, looking at the window, watching as the rain streaked down the glass. It was almost beautiful, the boom of the thunder, the crack of the lightning, and the steady drip of the rain as it hit against the window. I heard the door close distantly, and sighed. The wedding, I suppose. Mom was trying to get me to get up, but I didn’t. I haven’t opened my or Jared’s bedroom doors in a week now. Every day, three times a day, mom would come. She’d knock on the doors, bang on them, but I’d ignore her. She’d bring food, I could tell. I could smell it. I haven’t eaten in a week. Every time she brought food I had to rush to the bathroom
