Hazel pov
The walk home was long. By the time I reached the house the tears on my face had dried. My eyes were still puffy and my head was heavy. I pushed the front door open and walked in and dropped my bag on the couch. I did not have the energy to carry it upstairs. I did not have the energy to do much of anything.
I dragged myself to the stairs. I held the banister and went up one step at a time. My legs were tired in a deep way. Not the tired that comes from running. The tired that comes from fighting all day and losing anyway.
I got to my room. I pushed the door open. I did not change my clothes. I did not take off my shoes. I just walked to the bed and threw myself down face first into the pillow.
I lay there for a minute. The ceiling fan was turning above me. The room was quiet
