Prologue

I was never gonna live forever, but I thought I'd make it to eighteen. I'd hoped, anyway. But hopes these days are kind of like this hospital room—dim, but never dark enough to block out all the bullshit. It's impossible to achieve full darkness in a hospital. It's all blinking monitors and a bright yellow glow slanting under doorways or from behind drawn curtains. I'm actually looking forward to the time when everyone gives up on me, if only because then I get to go home where I can get some fucking sleep.

I don't mean that.

I reach for the book next to me and pull out a folded piece of paper. My eyes flicker to the closed door. Case is here somewhere. His coat is draped over the chair next to my bed. He's probably next door with that kid Ryder. Hell, the little dude's only twelve. He needs Case more than I do. Suddenly, dying at seventeen doesn't seem that bad.

I unfurl the paper and skim the contents with a pang of regret. I swallow it back immediately, choosing not to go there. Not tonight.

I didn't start this list for my best friend. I started it for myself. But things change, and it turns out dying makes me a sad sap. I grasp a pen in my stiff fingers and scratch a few words at the bottom.

I don't know what made me think of her. All I know is lying here, I have no time and also too much time. To think. To remember. To feel. It's too much feeling. A lifetime of fucking feeling and no outlet. What I wouldn't give for a bull right now. The meanest motherfucker they could find me. I'd hold on forever.

I write her name down because it's no longer for me. It's for him, and he has all the time in the world, so he'd better not waste it.