Sienna pov

I woke up with my face still damp from tears. My pillow smelled faintly of mascara, and my eyes burned when I tried to open them. The sunlight streaming through my blinds felt like an interrogation lamp, too bright, too sharp, stabbing right into the sore spot in my chest.

I rolled over and groaned, burying my head under the pillow, wishing I could rewind everything. Wishing last night had just been a bad dream. But no matter how hard I tried to push it away, the images came ...