Ximena's POV
The air feels thick, suffocating. I can't get enough oxygen into my lungs as I push through the sliding glass door, my heart hammering against my ribcage. My fingers tremble as I shoulder past a cluster of teenagers by the snack table, their giggles barely registering through the static in my head. Direction doesn't matter right now. I just need space before I completely unravel in front of this crowd.
Ezekiel's voice cuts through the noise behind me.
"Ximena! Hold on!"
Absolutely not.
Not again.
He's not getting another chance to chase after me with some weak excuse, slapping a pathetic apology over the gaping wound he keeps tearing open.
I spin around before he can close the distance, the words erupting from somewhere deep inside me like they've been trapped there for years.
"Ezekiel, just stop!"
