Anabelle sprinted down the hall, ignoring the boys' shouts. She refused to turn back, refused to let them see her tears.
You don't mean anything to him, Yolanda had tried to warn her. It's just a game he's playing with his friends. To see if he can fool you, and he has.
She hadn't listened. She'd wanted so badly to be right, to be loved, that she had ignored her best friend, had overlooked reason, had stubbornly stifled her own misgivings. And all she had done was delayed the inevitable.
There was never going to be a happy ending, she admitted as she sank to the floor in the choir room. Not for us, not for me. Never for me.
Her wretched sobs echoed off the walls, amplified by the vibrations against the drums.
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