IVA
Everyone at the table turned to look at me as I got to my feet. My mother’s brows pinched together, concern threading her voice as she asked if I was alright. “I’m fine,” I choked out, the words barely scraping past my throat.
Before anyone could respond, I muttered, “Please excuse me,” and pushed my chair back so abruptly it screeched against the floor.
I barely remembered how I made it outside, the air kissing my cheeks as I stumbled toward the balcony, my vision blurry. My heart pounded so hard that it drowned out everything else, like a drum in my ears. Gripping the railing with both hands, I leaned over as if it could steady me.
I forced myself to take deep breaths, but then, as if my mind was trying to torture me, a memory slammed into me hard and unrelenting--the night I wr
