She stopped yelling at me long enough to catch her breath, to let her irritation morph into pure anger. “You sit there with your one friend and look at the rest of us like we’re idiots. Well, you know what? You’re the selfish one, and I’m sick of your crap! I’m sick of you always acting like you’re better than me when we both know you’re not!”

I slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel hard to the right. The sooner I was away from her the better. She grabbed the armrest, the sudden jerk of the car taking her off guard. Good. About time. I wanted her off guard.

For a brief second, I felt the tires catch the road, the tremor in the wheel as I forced the car to turn when it didn’t want to. The friction eased, and the wheel stopped shaking. The car slid in every direction. I felt a sharp tug on the wheel, and I wrenched it back, trying to make the car go straight. I pressed the brake to the floor, demanding that the car stop, but it kept floating along.

I saw the side of the road, the three-inch concrete curb that separated us from the trees. There was no ear-piercing shriek, no grabbing for the door to brace myself. Nothing but complete and utter silence.

The car teetered when it hit the curb but didn’t stop. It spun sideways and continued on its path. I turned and saw the same horrified gaze on Maddy’s face that I knew was on mine. Her eyes widened and her lips parted on a silent scream as the trees grew bigger, grew closer.

I heard, saw, and felt it in slow-motion. Branches scraped across the top of the roof, each grinding sound showering the windshield with dead leaves. The car shook, bounced to the left, skimming the trunk of a tree. I watched it happen, saw the bark peeling away, a pale blue streak of paint left in its place.

Maddy’s cry shattered my own. Through the windshield, I could see the trees flying by. The car was still moving, picking up speed as it lurched to the right, balancing on the outer edges of its tires before tumbling over.

The thin tip of a branch snapped and fell on the hood of the car. I had a second of relief before I heard the windshield crack. My eyes fixed on the glass as I saw the crack spread, the circles widening and creeping out until the windshield finally shattered and coated me with shards of glass.

Somehow I had the presence of mind to brace myself, to grasp on to the steering wheel and lock my arms. I looked over at Maddy. She was screaming, her eyes closed and her hands flailing around for something to hold on to. Her hand brushed mine, and I grabbed it, clutching it with every ounce of strength I had.

There was no blinding light when we finally hit the tree, only burning pain followed by darkness. Total, desensitizing darkness.

5

Noise. That’s what brought me out of the darkness I was trapped in. Voices, alarms, the screech of metal, the thud of running feet—all of it combined into one jumbled mess of noise. I fought through the black fog, tried to grab on to each faint sound, hoping it would pull me farther and farther away from the massive weight that seemed to settle upon me.

“No, not yet,” someone yelled, and the hands I could feel at my side vanished. I tried to move, to bring my fingers to my face and physically claw away the wet haze covering my eyes. But nothing would move. Not my arms, not my head, not even my legs. It was as if my entire body was crammed into a metal vise.

“Easy there.” The voice was back, unfamiliar and soothing at the same time. I felt my eyelids being pried open, the searing light burning into first my left eye, then the right. They fell closed and the light disappeared, the pain lingering behind.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“We have to move.” It was a woman now, her words sharp and curt.

Move? Move where? I wanted to sleep. Sleep? Wait. I couldn’t sleep. I needed to go pick up Maddy. She’d called me from Alex’s house, something about needing a ride home. Wait. No. I was at Alex’s. She was crying out on the back lawn. That’s why I was wet. Her tears were falling on me. Nope, that wasn’t right. It was the rain.

I shook my head, tried to piece together the flashes of information. None of them made sense. She’d said I was the nameless girl. A nobody. That, I remembered, and a bubble of anger resurfaced—anger laced with pain.

Pain? Wait … what? My head hurt. I mean, it freaking killed. Like somebody had taken a pickax to my eyes. And why was I wet? I concentrated on my fingers, got them to obey me enough to brush against each other. They were soaked but warm. Why was the rain warm?

“Stay with me.” There was the man’s voice again, but this time it wasn’t soothing. It sounded urgent, demanding.

My feet were cold. Shoes. I’d left them at Alex’s house. No, Maddy had left hers at Alex’s house. She had mine. She had my sweatshirt and coat, too; that was why I was so cold. At least I thought she did. I tried to look down, but my head wouldn’t move. It was plastered in place.

It hurt to breathe. I pried my eyes open and saw the flashing lights. What had happened to my windshield? Was that a tree branch on my dashboard, and what was with the red paint coating the jagged pieces on the passenger-side window?

“Hurts,” I choked out.

“I know.” I turned toward the man but couldn’t make out his face. It was blurred … hazy. “I’m going to give you something for the pain, but first, can you tell me your name?”

My name. My name? God, it hurt to think. I shook my head, the idea of having to formulate one single word was too much to bear. I saw a flash of metal to my right and tried to turn my head. They were cutting something; the sound of the metal blades hitting each other tore through my mind. Maddy’s side of the car was dented in, dirt and leaves ground into the thousands of spiderweb cracks that laced the window.

I shivered as the frigid night air hit me. The passenger-side door was gone, two gloved hands tossing it aside in a hasty effort to get inside … to get to Maddy. Her body was slumped forward, resting at an odd angle against the dashboard. Hurried words, none of which I understood, echoed through the car as they gently eased her back against the seat, her head lolling to one side. Somebody reached for her neck and then her wrist before shaking his head and backing out of the car. If I had the strength to speak, I would’ve yelled at them to leave her be, to let her stay in the safe confines of the car, not to move her into the dark, wet night.

Maddy? I whispered in my mind. Her eyes were open and she was staring at me. Why didn’t she blink? Why didn’t she move?

She didn’t fight, didn’t cry out in pain when they pulled her out of her seat. She lay there boneless in their arms, a spot of wetness rolling off her cheek. I followed the drop of water to the floor and saw one of my shoes lying on the dirty floor mat by my phone. Where was the other?

“Stay with me,” the man said. “Can you tell me your name?”

I didn’t care about my name. I wanted to know where they were taking Maddy and why she looked so quiet and cold. I heard the man talking to me, demanding that I answer him. I blocked him out, focusing my energy on calling my sister back.

“Maddy,” I whispered, hoping she’d hear me. Hoping she’d acknowledge me, say something, anything.

“There you go. Good. Now, do you know where you are?”

I tried to shake my head, but it hurt to move. “No,” I managed to whisper.

“That’s okay,” he said. “We’re going to move you now. You’re going to be fine.”

“Maddy,” I repeated as his hands reached out for me. I didn’t fight it this time. I didn’t struggle to stay there despite his demands. I simply let go.

6

It hurt. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. It hurt to feel, but I did it anyway. I struggled for a sense of place, of time, but there were no familiar voices, only noise. Constant machinelike thrumming.