Kayla
The TV flickered in the corner of the room, but I wasn’t really watching it anymore. I hadn’t been paying attention for some time.
I was too busy staring down at the chipped edge of my coffee mug, running my thumb absently over the rim. My mind was whirling, caught somewhere between hopelessness and bitter hatred.
Liam, of course, was like a vulture circling roadkill. He’d swooped in right in the midst of the media frenzy, and I knew he was enjoying every little second of it.
And to make matters worse, he had cried on live television.
Cried.
I could still see it in my head—those fake tears, the slight tremble in his voice, the way he had wrung his hands together as if the weight of my supposed betrayal was just too much for him to bear. Vanessa, of course, sat
