Chapter Twenty-One
Warren
I’m ignoring him.
Another text pings on my phone. The sound assaults my ears, slicing below my skin and all the way to the bone.
I should just block him again. But for some reason, despite how much it hurts, I can’t quite sever this last little connection to him.
I pick it up and open his message thread.
Eli
Warren. Just answer me, please. I can help you or stay away. Tell me what you need.
My fingers twitch against the screen, desperately wanting to answer. I know exactly where he is right now. His Studio Art class just let out, so he’s probably walking to his shift at the bookstore, smoking with his hood pulled low against the cold breeze.
Maybe I can just go to him. Pretend everything is fine again. Pretend I didn’t find what I did. Pretend I’m not dying inside because I can’t see him anymore.
I pull the rubber band up and let it go.
Snap .
You can’t go to him.
Snap .
He’ll never want you when he finds out.
Snap .
Tears track down my face as the pain sizzles in my blood, quieting all the thoughts.
I set my phone down.
He’ll get bored and give up.
And I’ll move on. This was never going to be forever. It was temporary—the end was coming anyway.
But you didn’t know it would be because of this.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.