JUANITA

My stomach had been in knots all morning, my heart repeatedly slamming hard against my ribs, fast and uneven, as if it were trying to warn me to turn around.

But I kept walking toward my professor’s office anyway.

I hated coming to this part of college. It smelled like bleach and coffee, and right now, it felt like the walls were trying to close in on me and suffocate me. I clutched the strap of my bag so hard the leather was digging into my sweaty palm.

I was drowning. That was literally the simplest way to put it.

Between the double shifts at the diner, the mounting...