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~Dylan’s POV
I sat in my room, staring at my phone, irritation twisting in my chest. I knew Velma would not pick up, and yet I tried calling her anyway. Maybe I wanted her to be angry with me, maybe I wanted to hear her voice, maybe I just wanted to know she was okay. Every ring went through, and every time, it hit voicemail. Not going through. Not connecting. My thumb hovered over the screen for a long moment before I threw the phone onto the bed in frustration.
I rubbed my face and leaned back, eyes closing. I could hear my own heartbeat, loud in my ears, mixing with the memory of my mother earlier. The way she had barged into my room, scolding me about Velma, about Eva, about what I should care for, about who I should be with. That confrontation had left me on edge, raw in a way I
