I stared at the tray of food on my bed, my stomach twisting the same way it had for days. The smell wasn’t bad. Nothing was wrong with the food. I just… couldn’t eat. I took a spoonful only because I needed to swallow my medicine. Hunger wasn’t even part of my body anymore, everything inside me felt tired.
I finished the small portion I forced down and pushed the tray aside. The room felt like it was closing in on me, so I stepped out to the balcony with a book in my hand. Not that I was fond of books, but I just wanted to read because doing nothing made the thoughts in my head louder. I sat down, pulled my knees up, and pretended to read the same paragraph again and again. I wasn’t absorbing anything. My mind was somewhere else entirely.
The door opened quietly behind me.
I didn’t even
