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August 8th, 2020

I laid on the couch, watching the news report about a black lives matter protest.

"In other news, Influencer Thomas Petrou now in horrible mental state due to unknown attack," My heart sank.

Unknown attack?

I reached for my phone and then stopped myself when my finger hovered over Thomas's name. I shouldn't call him. I was the one who separated us. I set my phone down, staring at the tv. 

An hour later, the phone rang and Charli's name popped up. I hesitated but answered the call, my hand trembling.

"Charli?" I asked.

"Liv..." She almost whispered.

"You haven't called for 7 months and now you do?" I questioned.

"Liv, I'm sorry. But, I need your help," She replied.

"You're calling me only because you need my help? You're not going to ask how I've been or if I'm ok?" I looked at the coffee table.

"It's Thomas," Her words rang in my ears. 

"What does he want?" I asked, fighting the urge to beg for his voice.

"He's suffering, Liv. We were at the mall a few days ago and some guy who was a crazy fan wanted to meet me and then when Thomas blocked me, he attacked Thomas. Now, Thomas is suffering from PTSD from you. He won't stop whispering your name or holding your heels," She replied. "He won't eat or drink or sleep. All he does is sit in his room."

"And you want me to talk to him?" My heart filled up with happiness at the thought.

"In person. That's the only way," Charli responded. Then Ryland came to mind. 

"Tell you what. I'll fly to LA and check myself into a hotel. Send Thomas there and I'll talk to him," I took in a deep breath.

"Thank you, Liv. You don't know how much this helps," She replied happily before I hung up.

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