you reached for the remote and turned on 13 going on 30.

just three minutes ago, you answered a call from sunday, her sobs making her words nearly impossible to understand. without thinking, you rushed over, greeted outside her room by her sisters. when you opened the door, the scene broke you.

sunday was curled in a blanket, tears streaming down her face. mason had broken up with her, and from the look of it, it was anything but clean.

now, you’re both curled up together, surrounded by junk food and tissues scattered around the bed, a full mess.

“you know—” sunday started, taking a bite of her chocolate and sniffing, “i think i’ve spent half my life trying to fix people. and guess what? i can’t. you can’t save people who don’t want to be saved. who knew?” she let out a dry, bitter laugh.