HAILEY
Hunger is eventually what breaks me.
Not pride or embarrassment or even Claiming Season.
Hunger.
Which honestly feels like an insult considering everything else currently happening in my life.
I stand in the middle of my room, water dripping down my hair from my recent shower— my fifth shower of the day by the way— while I stare at my reflection in the full length mirror while trying to determine whether my body is going to collapse first or whether my stomach is simply going to start eating itself.
The answer arrives in the form of a loud growl.
I look down.
My stomach growls again.
"Traitor."
It offers no apology.
For most of the day, I've stayed hidden inside my room, avoiding people and responsibility.
Avoiding Eamon.
Especially Eamon.
My room looks like a disaster
