So much pain.

And then all I can see is darkness.

Sometimes, a single second is all it takes.

And everything changes.

Chapter 19

Ash

I try to open my eyes but I can’t.

I can’t focus.

All I can see is flashes. Flashes of light and of darkness. All I can hear is the thunder of my heart and snatches of voices. But they’re all talking over one another and it’s like I’m in a dream, like they’re all out of order, out of sequence. Or that I am.

“—other. We’re his pa—”

“—e’s crashing. We need to in—”

Someone’s crying. Sobbing. I want to reach out, to move.

But I can’t.

I’m trying so hard that the shock of the jolt, of my body jerking without my permission stuns me and I start to fall back in on myself.

“—eed to get—”

“—epped for sur—”

I try to follow the voices, try to make them make sense, but it’s no use.

They’re fading.

Everything’s fading.

No.

No.

No no no, I think. I try to scream it but the words won’t come out.

The light is gone now. The voices, too.

Fuck, I think as I slide into the darkness.

It’s happening again.

Star

When I wake up, I do it slowly. I’m groggy. Sluggish. I feel like I’m deep under water, and it’s a struggle to fight my way to the surface. To consciousness.

But slowly, I edge my way back, bit by bit. And finally, finally, I open my eyes.

The first thing that filters through my hazy mind is just how incredibly bright everything is. Walls gleaming white in the sunlight that filters through the window by my side, bits of metal catching in the light, sending off little glints that dance like fairies across my vision.

The second thing is the pain.

Everything hurts. Every last inch of me aches, and as I breathe in, I feel a shooting, stabbing pain in my side. I try to squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through it, but I can’t quite stop the whimper that escapes my lips. Struggling, trying not to scream, I shift myself on my side and lay there, exhausted, just breathing. In and out.

In and out.

The machine next to me lets out a beep, and, once the pain has faded into the background, I open my eyes.

I’m in a hospital room.

What the hell happened to me? I wonder. How did I even get here?

And then . . . Oh god.

Ash.

Where’s Ash?

I try to surge forward, to pull myself out of the bed, but I can’t. The pain is so bad I want to scream and I have to grit my teeth and ease myself back down, and wait for it to pass again.

My heart is thundering in my chest.

Where is Ash?

I open my mouth to call out for someone. Anyone. But the haze that keeps threatening to envelop me is too great, and I can’t quite get the words out. I still, squeezing my eyes shut and try to concentrate. I can do this. I have to do this. I suck in as much air as I can, and let out a yell before I collapse back onto the mattress. A moment passes, two, and I’m lost in the whirling, dizzying cloud of pain that surrounds me. There’s a noise from the other side of the door, and my eyes blink open just in time to see the doorknob begin to turn. I reach out with my left hand to grasp the edge of the bed and push myself up into a more upright position, but as I set my hand down, my hand begins to hurt. Bad.

I look down and my heart catches in my throat. And as soon as I lay eyes on it, the pain hits me in full force. My hand is wrapped in gauze, my fingers are trembling, from the pain or the fear, I’m not certain. But there’s something wrong.

My hand is too small, too narrow to be my own.

I turn my hand over, palm up, just to be sure, and my throat starts to close up as I realize what has happened.

My pinkie finger, the one I’ve linked with Ash dozens of times as we made promises to each other, is gone.

It’s just . . . gone.

Ash

I hear them talking before I open my eyes. My parents. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I know their voices better than anyone’s. And that’s definitely my mother.

I groan before I can stop myself, and try to turn over to go back to sleep. It’s early—what the fuck does she think she’s doing, trying to wake me up at this time? But as soon as I shift, I can feel it, the pain, and I fucking jolt.

Jesus Christ. Everything fucking hurts. What the hell happened to me?

“Ash?” Mom’s voice cuts through the haze. “Ash, are you all right, honey?”

Why is that familiar? Why have I heard those words before? Well, almost. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a honey attached to it last time.

What the fuck happened?

I grit my teeth and force my eyes to open. There’s a flash of white, and then my vision clears. I’m in the hospital. Jesus.

All at once, I’m back there. I’m back in Gina’s car, weaving back and forth completely wasted. I’m back at the crash, at the car I tried not to hit but did, anyway. I hear the horn, the scrape and scream of metal against metal, and then I see the white of the hospital room, the dark uniformed figure, reading me my rights before I’m hauled off to holding. To the courtroom. To prison. It all hits me all at once, and then over and over again. It won’t stop.

It won’t ever stop.

Crash.

Scream.

Darkness.

Light.

Crash.

Scream.

Darkness.

Li—

A hand lands on my shoulder, jostling me hard enough to jerk me back into reality. I blink my eyes open, even though they feel heavy and I’m sluggish under the weight that’s pressing on my chest. What the fuck happened? Why am I here?

I must say it out loud, because Mom’s face comes into view, and I feel her cool hand rest on my forehead. It feels good, relaxing, but I shake off that feeling. I have to. I have to stay awake. Stay alert.

“It’s okay, honey. Everything is going to be all right.”

“What—what happened?” I ask, trying to pull myself up into a sitting position even as the room starts to spin around me. Mom’s hand is on my shoulder almost immediately, trying to push me back down against the pillows.

“Mom?” I say, desperate. I don’t remember. I don’t know why I’m here. “Mom, what happened to me?”

I manage to keep my eyes open long enough to see her glance behind her, and I hear the sound of footsteps against tile, and Dad appears beside her. They’re silent for a moment, doing that weird mental communication thing that all parents seem to be able to do, the ones that stay together, anyway. But I’m fighting against the pain and the drugs—goddamn, what the fuck do they have me on? I feel like I’m flying—and I need answers before I pass out.

“Mom. Please. What’s going on?”

She sighs and turns back to me, and I see her eyes are filled with unshed tears.