I turn my face into the sofa cushion, gasping, tears spilling unchecked.
My chest aches so violently it feels like something is splintering.
Breaking.
Giving way.
And then?—
“I’m coming back for you.”
A sound escapes me?—
a strangled, terrified, desperate moan.
I slam a hand against the sofa, like I can make the world stop spinning if I just ground myself to something solid.
It doesn’t work.
The room tilts.
The words echo inside my skull, ricocheting off every hollow part of me.
“And next time… you’re going to look me in the eyes, sober, awake, aware… and say every fucking word again.”
The message ends.
I break.
I break completely.
I fold forward, forehead hitting my knees, arms wrapped around my shins, sobs tearing through me silent and violent. My breath trembles out of me in shuddering bursts.
I whisper into my knees?—
“Why did I call you? Why did I fucking call you?”
The phone screen goes dark again.
I clutch it to my chest like it’s him.
The room feels too small.
Too hot.
Too bright.
Too full of memories I thought I’d buried deep enough to never feel again.
The locket presses into my sternum with every ragged breath.
Mine.
I whisper back?—
“I’m not.”
But the words feel weak.
