She heard a soft knock on her door.

“Desiree,” her mother’s voice came through the door. “Please, sweetheart… at least come out and have breakfast.”

Desiree sat curled on her bed. Her knees were drawn to her chest, as she stared blankly at the faint sunlight seeping through her blinds.

She didn’t answer. She hadn’t answered the last ten times either.

Her mother sighed on the other side, knocking again, three more times, each one softer than the last. “You can’t keep ...