The bus jerked forward the moment I sank into the cracked vinyl seat, and the motion sent a bolt of pain straight through the center of my skull. This wasn't the dull ache of a normal headache or the throbbing pulse of simple exhaustion. It was a full, merciless migraine blooming behind my eyes.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, each flicker a stab of brightness. A toddler behind me whimpered. Someone cleared their throat. A phone chimed three sharp notifications in a row. Every noise slammed into my skull and multiplied.
I pressed my forehead to the cold window, hoping the chill would numb the pounding, but it only gave the pain a harder surface to ricochet against.
Home was impossible. My mother's eager questions and shining eyes would shatter whatever fragile grip I had left on my
