55

LAURA

“No one dies from a broken heart.”

That was my best friend’s attempt at reassuring me that I was, in fact, not going to die from this pain I felt.

I doubted it, but I mustered a small smile at her and went back to what I’d been doing for the past hour—staring at the blank wall. I wasn’t sure why I’d even bothered to ask her when I knew the answer was a big fat yes.

I firmly believed that I could very well die from the sheer amount of pain I was feeling. Everything on the inside of my body hurt.

Every. Single. Thing.

Hell, even breathing hurt. And for the first time in forever, I think I finally understood my mother and why she used.

There was little I wouldn’t do to stop feeling like this.

Balery sighed, placing the food tray she was carrying on the bedside table before sliding onto the bed, right next to me. “You have to eat something.”

“I will,” I told her.

“Now,” she ordered. “You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

Rolling onto my back, I exhaled at the ceiling, regretti