Ximena's POV
I buried myself deeper under the blankets, creating a fortress against the outside world. The bedroom felt like a cave with the curtains drawn tight, only thin slivers of daylight managing to sneak past the edges.
My phone had been buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand, but I refused to acknowledge it. Each vibration felt like another potential wound waiting to open. What if it was Ezekiel? What if it was someone else ready to mock me? I couldn't handle either possibility right now.
The house felt eerily silent. Mom had slipped out before sunrise for her shift, and I'd heard Anton's footsteps outside my door earlier, pacing like a caged animal. But he hadn't knocked. Smart choice. The last thing I wanted was a motivational speech from my golden boy brother.
My skull pounded from the tears I'd shed through the night. My face felt swollen, my throat scratchy, and my chest hollow like someone had scooped out my insides with a spoon.
