MACEY
My parents left after dropping me off, and honestly, I was so f*****g glad. I loved them, I really did, but I couldn’t stand another round of “I’m sorry, sweetheart” or “You’ll be okay, baby.” No, I wouldn’t be okay. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.
The silence in my apartment felt strange. It was too clean, too empty, too still—like the world had pressed pause and forgot to hit play again. I dropped my hospital bag near the couch and stood there for a second, staring into nothing.
The walls were quiet, but my chest was loud—pounding with everything I didn’t want to feel.
I walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed the first bottle of water I saw. I took a sip, then another, until the coolness stung down my throat. My reflection on the microwave caught
