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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HANNAH
The shrill ring of my phone slices through the silence of the room. With a reluctant groan, I peel back from the warmth of my duvet, the chill of the room prickling my skin as I stretch a hand toward the scattered contents of my purse on the floor. My fingers fumble for the device, the cold touch of the screen against my palm grounding me back to reality.
"Hi, Mom," I croak out, my voice a raspy whisper, raw from the tears that had carved rivers down my cheeks earlier.
"Are you happy now? Are you?" Mom's voice is a sharp bark through the speaker, each word a staccato that makes my brows knit together in confusion.
"What are you talking about, Mom? Is something wrong?" I inquire, my voice laced with concern as I hold the phone to my ear.
"Is something wrong? Did you really just ask me if something is wrong?" Her voice crescendos into a yell that has me pulling the phone away from my ear. "Your
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