Jane.

“What’s wrong, Jane?” Amira asked, her voice filled with concern. “Ever since we left the club, you’ve been unhappy and moody. What happened in there?”

My chest felt tight, the weight of pain I couldn’t say out loud pressing against my ribs until I could barely breathe. How could I tell her?

How could I explain that seeing him again had torn open wounds I thought were finally getting better? That his words—those mean, had made me want to scratch at my own skin just to feel ...