"Why, Loren, why?” I was now on the floor, crying.
After a few minutes of calming myself down, I got up and headed to the bedroom, crying like this wouldn’t help.
Reaching the bedroom, I sat beside the bed but on the floor, taking my phone as I once again tried Loren’s number, but like the first, it went straight to voicemail. I decided to try Clinton’s number this time, but it said the number was disconnected and couldn't even let me leave a voicemail.
I dialled Mrs. Smith’s number; maybe he had told her something.
“Jessie, how are you?”
“I’m not fine, mom; Clinton left me.” I tried to sound strong—I didn't want to cry in front of her.
“Oh yes, he did; he told me, I’m so sorry, dear.”
“Did he mention where he was going?”
“No, he even refused to give me his contact number. He said
