Two weeks had passed since the night Tori and I had gone to the club.
Two weeks since I’d laughed.
Two weeks since I’d danced until my feet hurt.
Two weeks since I’d discovered that, for a few hours, I could forget everything.
And tonight, I was going back.
Alone.
I stood in front of the mirror in Tori’s spare room, studying my reflection.
For the first time in months, I had actually made an effort with my appearance.
I wore a fitted black dress that hugged my curves without being too revealing, my hair falling loosely around my shoulders.
I looked different.
Not because I’d changed physically.
Because there was something different in my eyes.
Something I hadn’t seen there for a long time.
Independence.
I wasn’t going to the club because I needed Tori.
I wasn’t going because
