22.

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I slept through my alarm and the calls from Fieldan and Ian. I didn't get out of bed until noon, my body aching and my head vibrating with every step I took. I felt like I had the world's worst hangover, but in reality, it's just my own body telling me that I'm a fuck up and so I deserve to feel like shit. 

My mom isn't home when I finally trudge down the stairs to make myself some lunch. The blanket that I had draped over her last night is folded neatly on the couch and the picture she was holding of River is placed back on the fireplace where it belongs. It was as if last night hadn't happened. 

Except that it did. 

I can't stomach the smell of the grilled cheese I made, so I toss it in the trash and head back upstairs to my bed. As soon as I close the door behind me I heard my phone chime with a text. 

Ian: Hey, you okay? Why aren't you at school?

I want so badly to text him back. I want for him to come over and hold me, to tell me that everything will be okay and this all has to end eventually, right? 

But I can't. I have to stick to my decision, no matter how hard it will be.

I scroll through the other texts he had sent this morning and the similar ones from Fieldan. I don't reply to her either and turn my phone off before tossing it in the drawer of my nightstand. Within minutes I fall back to sleep and don't wake up until I'm being lightly shaken by my mom.

"Annie. Annie, wake up." 

"Hmm?" I stretch and struggle to open my eyes. 

"I got a call from the school today, why weren't you there? Are you sick?" She puts the back of her hand to my forehead and checks to see if I have a fever. "You're a little warm."

"I just don't feel good, mom." It's not a lie. I don't feel good, not in any sense of the word.

"I've been calling you all day, where's your phone?" She looks around my room.

"It's in the drawer. I turned it off." I point to my nightstand and she doesn't question me any further.

"Do you want some food? I can order us some pasta from that place downtown."

Even though I'm still not really hungry, I nod my head, unable to pass up the opportunity to order carry out with my mom - something that used to be so normal and routine. I can't even remember the last time we did this. 

I feel like I stepped in to a time machine as my mom and I sit on the couch together and eat pasta while watching some cheesy rom-com we found while channel surfing. She doesn't mention yesterday or last night, even though she has to know I'm the one that put the blanket on her and threw away the empty bottles. Instead, the two of us just sit and watch the movie in comfortable silence - something that reminds me all too much of Ian. 

My heart aches at the thought of him, and I know that there's probably a dozen texts and missed calls from him waiting for me upstairs. When the movie ends and we make our way to our bedrooms, my mom brings me a class of water and some Tylenol, promising to check on me in the morning - another thing that she hasn't done in a long time.

I don't touch my phone and I don't go to school the next day either. I convince my mom that I am still too sick, and so she agrees to let me stay home. This time, I don't get out of bed the entire day, it's like my brain just shut off and I can't do anything but sleep. 

If I was awake, I knew that I wouldn't be able to stop crying. Crying over so many different things: River, my parents, myself, Ian. Everything hurts, so I welcome the sleep.

Ian's P.O.V

I haven't heard from Annie in four days, not since she hugged me goodbye in my driveway on Sunday. I didn't know that hug, that kiss, was a real goodbye. 

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