Bailey’s POV
By the time dinner ends, I already know nothing useful is coming out of it, not answers, not honesty, not even a decent lie that tries hard enough, just silence stretched thin and polite voices pretending not to hear the questions breathing under the table, and when I excuse myself nobody stops me, which somehow hurts more than if they had.
Back in my room, I close the door slowly and rest my forehead against it like I might leave an imprint, like the wood might absorb some of the noise inside my head, and I let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding since Raven pushed his chair back earlier.
“This is ridiculous,” I whisper to myself, though there is no one to contradict me.
I pace, then sit, then stand again, my thoughts chasing each other in circles that never
