Chapter 7 — The Pillow

I cried into my pillow that entire night, muffling every sound so that no one in the house would hear me come apart.

And I am not proud of the thoughts I had, in the dark, that night.

They came anyway, ugly and involuntary, and they made me hate myself even as I thought them.

I thought: he cannot possibly find her more attractive than me.

I thought: there has to be a reason, an angle, an ulterior motive, because this does not make sense.