I storm into my room, crying.
I cannot believe this happened.
I left her 34 text messages, 33 calls, and 11 snaps.
Nothing.
She has every right to be mad at me, I mean I would be mad at myself too. Why did I have to do this. Why did this have to happen.
I look at the photo of us. A tear rolls off my cheek and falls onto the picture frame. I put it back on my side table and curl up into a ball on my bed. This was such a bad idea. Why didn't I just ask her first? All of those years of friendship, gone. I would do anything to change it. To make it so we never got together. Why did I have to follow my heart without thinking about it.
I rub my eyes as I remember I still have my mascara on. The mascara that she bought me for my birthday. I tear up even more as I put my headphones in and start listening to music. It doesn't help that much but it takes my mind off of it.
I change my clothes into my older brother's t-shirt and my biker shorts while I try to get my mascara off my eyes.
"Morgan?" I hear from downstairs.
I pause as I realize who's calling me. I'm so surprised that I don't bother wiping the tears off my face to go make sure it's not just a voice in my head.
It was not a voice in my head.
It was my best friends brother.