The drama department’s account pops up, and I quickly tap on it, eager to see more. Their most recent post is my yearbook photo, with a caption mentioning my accident and wishing me a speedy recovery. The rest of their feed is pictures from various productions, similar to the ones Ms. Warren showed me. I see myself on stage, deep in the middle of an emotional scene, then posing with my cast mates afterward, the glow of excitement fresh in my cheeks.

There’s a link on their profile leading to a website, and I follow it, navigating until I find a section with past performances. Romeo and Juliet is the first one to capture my attention, and I watch the video, skipping through it until I see myself appear. As soon as I set foot on the stage, my chest constricts. It’s me, but it’s someone else. She speaks with my voice and moves with my body, even though I’ve never met her. It almost feels violating. I watch until I can’t stomach it anymore.

Throwing my phone to the side, I crawl out of bed and slink down the stairs to make a cup of tea. To my surprise, Audrey is already awake, too, sitting at the counter, huddled over a mug of coffee. She looks up as I enter, clearing her throat, and I don’t miss the dark circles under her eyes.

“Morning,” she says, voice hoarse.

“Are you okay?”

It takes her a while to answer, lip trembling violently. “Parker left.”

“Seriously?”

Audrey shrugs helplessly. “He’s gone. He broke up with me.”

“I’m so sorry.” Guilt instantly wraps around the words, and I hope it passes for sympathy.

At that, her face crumples. “I didn’t see it coming at all. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Putting aside my discomfort, I loop my arms around her shoulders. Without hesitation, she latches onto me tightly, doing her best to stifle her sobs. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling light headed.

Parker told me at the party that he was going to leave, but I didn’t think he would do it so soon. I thought I had more time to mentally prepare myself for Audrey’s heartbreak, more time to brace myself for the influx of self-hatred I’m about to experience.

“You don’t deserve this,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady.

She whimpers in response before releasing me, and I take a step back as she wipes her cheeks. “Sorry, I’m a mess,” she apologizes, voice thick. “I can still take you to school today, I just need a second.”

“Take your time,” I say. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Audrey says. “Thanks, though.”

After giving her a fleeting smile, I hurry to the bathroom, feeling as though I’m going to vomit, but everything stays bottled up inside, the way it always does.