My heat was supposed to start today, but it hasn't.
I try not to think about what this means. I try not to connect it with my bouts of sickness and weight loss.
I try to ignore the small pooch of my stomach that has been bloated for days now. I try, but I can't.
Senna is here, visiting me, bringing me lunch. She notices how I start to turn green when I look at the chicken salad she brought me. She looks worried.
"Are you okay?" She wants to help me. I don't have the strength to keep resisting her. I feel bad for pushing her away.
"No."
"Is it because of Heath?"
"No." My voice wavers. I'm only half lying.
She grabs my hand. Her hair is messy around her face. Her eyes are like steel, trying to pull every bit of truth out of me that they can.
"My heat..." I'm not sure how to say this
