Chapter Thirty One

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It didn't take me long to decide I should just stay home. It wasn't even really a decision. By the time I could move without crying I was already over an hour late for the time I'd meant to be meeting up with Conner.

I'd ignored my phone all the times it had rang.

I couldn't bring myself to turn it off.

It got dark quick.

At one point my mother had come by asking if I was okay. I couldn't force myself to make words to tell her I wanted to be left alone. Shit. She seemed to get the message anyway.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I buried myself into a pile of blankets, feeling like a Taylor Swift song and stupid.

My phone eventually stopped ringing after a couple of hours, and for some reason that was so much worse.

He could have at least spent longer trying to get a hold of me. Asshole.

A fresh round of silent tears hit me. Worse than before.

I didn't really understand why the human body let us cry. It seemed really fucking impractical. It made eyes red and itchy, and it fucking hurt. I felt stuffy and horrible, shivering against my blankets.

I hated it so much.

The next day went by achingly slow, but I didn't cry. I also didn't leave my room, but hey at least there was progress. I didn't get any more calls, which yeah felt like a kick to the stomach.

"Charlotte." My mum tried knocking on my door.

I answered still dressed in my pyjamas.

"Are you going to school tomorrow?" She asked me.

"I don't know." I answered truthfully.

She gave me a sad look. "You were getting better."

I rolled my eyes. "I still am. I'm just upset, not suicidal."

She winced at my bluntness. "Char-"

"Sorry." I apologised before she could even get through her reprimand.

She gave me a thoughtful look. "Conner's at the door, wanting to talk to you."

My chest constricted. "Tell him to go away."

"Do you really want me to?"

"I don't know." I said running a hand through my hair.

"Maybe you should go downstairs just so you can yell at him? It might make you feel better?" She suggested, her voice going softer than I'd heard in a year.

I swallowed against the rising lump in my throat. "How do you know he deserves to be yelled at?"

"You don't get upset easy, Charlotte." She reached out to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. "He must have really fucked up for you to cry."

I winced. It was obvious then.

I scrubbed uselessly at my cheeks, before taking in a deep breath. "You're right."

"He's an asshole, whatever he did." She narrowed her eyes.

I half laughed. "I meant about me needing to talk to him."

She blinked. "Oh right. Okay."

"Uh- Thanks."

She smiled at me, and patted my head. I swatted her hand away, and she shook her head. "I try to show you affection."

"You were petting me like a dog."

"I happen to like dogs." My mother shot back. "You don't have to make everything into a fight."

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