It hit me like a hangover on New Year's day.
I groaned, rubbing my face with my hands. I turned under my covers and grabbed my phone. I expected a text or a call from someone; my dad, Ashton, or Luke. Nothing.
I got up from my warm bed and dragged myself to the bathroom. I was emotionally exhausted. I stared in my mirror and examined my look. A sloppy bun and too big t-shirt. My eyes were darkened underneath. My left over mascara I couldn't get off all the way last night was smudged around my eyes.
I turned on my faucet and splashed my face with cold water. Droplets ran down my forearms and fell from my elbows.
I peered up again as the color drained from my face. Snippets from last night rushed in from every corner of my brain. I could distinctively hear the sound of my zipper bein
