Chapter 114 114

• It wasn't until my bedroom door clicked shut that the ache I'd been suffocating under the table came tearing out. It pressed against my ribs, made my knees weak.
• I went to the desk with shaky fingers and dragged my sketchbook open. I let the pencil move before my heart split, let it bleed shapes onto the page.
• Ten minutes later, I had four rumpled pages on the floor. I groaned, lifted the sketchbook, and slammed it down against the desk hard enough for the sound to rattle the glass of water nearby.