“I’m tired,” I said—and I was. Tired of going through the motions, tired of pretending that something terrible hadn’t been happening to my heart ever since my stay at the hospital. Physically, that heart was the same as it had always been—consistent and strong, a sturdy organ that I could rely on for years to come. Emotionally, however, I was broken. I’d been broken for a long time, and I’d done my best to make sure that everyone around me was broken, too. “I’ve done so many terrible things,” I said. “I’ve said so much even worse.” I don’t think Sloane heard me, but that was okay. For once in
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