Elena's POV
One thing I like about Naomi is that she doesn't put you to do or say what you don't want to.She never does. That's one of the reasons I came here, why I always end up at her apartment when the world feels too heavy to breathe in. She has this quiet patience about her, like she's willing to sit in the silence with me for as long as it takes.
I'm curled up on her couch, my knees hugged to my chest, an old blanket wrapped around me. My eyes are swollen, and my throat aches from the crying I thought would never end. The clock on her wall ticks softly, but even that sound feels like it's pressing against my skin.
For many hours, I asked for space but right now I need to let it all out.
I lift my head and whisper, "Naomi?"
She's instantly there, closing her book sliding into the armchair across from me, her back straight not slouching., her face gentle, her eyes open. "Yeah, I'm here."
The dam cracks.
"It's Justin," I say, my voice so hoarse it barely sounds like mine.
