She Called Him at 3 AM
He wasn't her boyfriend. He wasn't even her friend anymore. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. He almost didn't answer. It was 3 AM. Nobody calls at 3 AM with good news. "Hello?" Silence. Then her voice—small, wrecked, like she'd been crying for hours and had finally run out of tears. "I didn't know who else to call." He sat up. Rubbed his eyes. His heart was already pounding because it was her—the one who walked out eight months ago. The one who said "I need space" and never came back. "Are you okay?" he asked. "I'm at the hospital." His blood went cold. "What happened?" "Nothing happened. I mean—I happened. I'm the thing that happened. I'm so tired, James. So tired of being me." He didn't say it's okay. He hated when people said that. It's not okay. It's never okay. "Which hospital?" "St. Mary's." "Stay there. Don't move. I...