“Nothing, except you’re hurting,” she replies, frustration lacing her words. “And pushing people away isn’t going to help.”
“Stop acting like you know me.” I lean back against the wall, glaring at her. “You don’t.”
“Then let me in,” Alexa urges, her voice softening. “Let someone help.”
“Why would I do that?” I snap, but I feel the crack in my armor, the vulnerability creeping up on me.
“Because Miles cares about you,” she presses. “The whole club cares too and you’re shutting them out.”
“Good,” I bite my lip, swallowing the truth lodged in my throat. “Maybe I want to be alone.”
“That’s not what you really want.” Her gaze is steady, unwavering.
“Just drop it already!” I shout, throwing my hands up in frustration.
The room feels too small, too suffocating.
“Fine,” she concedes, but I see the disappointment in her eyes.
It cuts deeper than any wound.
“Can you both just leave me alone?” I plead, desperation spilling from my lips.
“Stiletto…” Cheyenne begins, but I don’t want to hear it.
“Please,” I whisper, the fight draining from me.
“Okay,” Alexa finally says, standing up.
She glances at Cheyenne, who follows suit.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” Cheyenne murmurs softly, but all I can feel is the emptiness settling around me as they walk out.
I shut the door behind them, leaning against it, breathing heavily.
“Stupid,” I whisper to myself. My voice feels foreign, like I'm talking to a stranger.
I take a shaky breath and head into the bathroom.
The harsh light stings my eyes.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Who is this person standing here?
Dark circles shadow my hazel-green eyes.
My cheekbones jut out too far, skin pale and clammy.
I run a finger along the edge of my jaw, feeling the hollowness.
“Look at you,” I mutter, disgust curling in my stomach. “Pathetic.”
Tears spill over, warm trails down my cheeks.
I wipe them away with the back of my hand, but more come.
They won’t stop.
