Hazel
The door clicked shut behind me, and I pressed my back flat against it like I could physically hold the rest of the world out. Like if I pushed hard enough, the wood would meld to my spine and seal me in here forever — away from the hallway, away from the stairs, away from him.
My legs gave before I made the conscious decision to sit.
I slid down slowly, the door rough against my shoulder blades, until I hit the floor. The carpet was soft under my palms. I stared at nothing — at the pale stretch of my bedroom wall, at the fairy lights I'd strung along the window frame freshman year that I'd never bothered to take down. They weren't on. The room was the dim, grainy gray of late afternoon, and I sat in it like something washed up and forgotten.
He knows.
The thought had been circ
