Chapter 18 Relax

• L A N A
• I stare at my reflection for a long moment, barely recognising the woman looking back at me.
• My makeup is smeared beneath my eyes, dark shadows carved there from crying too hard, too often, my mascara clinging stubbornly to skin that feels sore and tight. My hair is tangled, flattened in places from fingers running through it in panic, from hands pressing to my scalp as if that might keep my thoughts from spilling out and from how much I had been sweating. I look tired in a way sleep does not fix andtired in a way that sinks into bone and lingers.