Megan's P.O.V
It had been a week since me and Dylan had talked. He called frequently and I didn't answer the phone. How could I? I wanted to believe Dylan had changed, but he was still a criminal. I walked through the house today feeling especially bad. My head was absolutely killing me.
"Megan! The phone!" My mom yelled, deepening my headache. I held the phone to my ear and shooed her away.
"Hello?"
"You alright?"
I sighed, "I'm not in the mood."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't feel good."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Can we talk?"
"No, I don't want to talk to you."
"Baby please, I'm sorry."
"Is this the only reason you called?"
He sighed, "please, please talk to me."
"I'm talking to you and all I hear is you making more excuses for doing wrong."
"I couldn't lose you Megan, you mean a lot to me and I couldn't imagine losing you."
"So you'll quit drugs and drop out of the gang?"
"I can try the drugs thing, but I'll get killed before I can get out."
I paused for a moment.
"Can you pick me up tonight?" I asked.
"Of course, I love you."
I waited before responding. I did love this man, more than I was willing to admit, but I really did love him.
"I love you too. Bye."
"Bye."
The line went dead and I hung the phone back on the wall. I walked through the living room and upstairs to go back to bed. I still had an awful headache and my meeting with Dylan might bring a new one.
