Chapter 42

It's dark. Pitch black.

At the top of the stairs, a hallway stretches out before me.

And there, a few feet ahead, a white door appears. Under it, a thin strip of light. Like a beacon, it summons me forward, guiding me out of the inky tendrils of blackness.

My body seems to float toward the door, and when I glance down, all I see are slithering shadows.

Panic tinges the edges of my awareness, speeding up my heart. Where's the ground? I can't decide if I'm grateful or not that I can't see it. I don't want to know how high I am.

But just as quick as fear grips a hold of me…

Something else drags my attention.

Someone's…humming. Singing maybe.

I know this song, I think, and next thing I know, I'm twisting the knob on the door, and pushing it open, revealing a light so bright, it momentarily whitens my vision.

The music grows deafening, no longer just humming, but there's piano too. The melody screeches into my ears, blending into a single high-pitched buzz.

And then?—

Silence.

Blinking rapidly, I lower my hand from where I was shielding my eyes from the glare, and as my vision adjusts to the room around me, my heart slows, stealing my breath with it.

It's the photographs taped and pinned and hung up all over the room that register first, quickly followed by rumpled black and pink bedding. Cream walls that have been graffitied with quotes, lyrics, snippets of poetry, and random doodles.

A scrapbook.

I'm not sure why I think that, but it brings a small smile to my lips.

"Did you bring it?"

Whipping around, I find Izzy standing there in front of her now-closed door, head tilted, gaze expectant.

"Bring what?" I hear myself say.

She rolls her eyes, grins, and shakes her head as she approaches me, and tears the scrunchie I didn't know I was even holding, out of my hand.

"Why do you have that?" I ask, my voice oddly warbled now.

"It's my lucky scrunchie."

I frown as I watch her shove all her hair up into a messy top-knot. Loose brown tendrils curl around her face, and she swipes them away with a huff.

"You…you don't have a lucky scrunchie," I say.

"I know."

And with that, she brushes past me, heading for her bed. My gaze lowers to where the carpet should be, but there's still only inky shadows, slithering about like snakes.

My throat clenches.

A low, melodic humming fills the room, soft and sweet.

Turning toward the source of it, I find Izzy sitting on her bed, leaned up against the headboard as if she's been there all along. Her knees are bent toward her chest, and against her thighs, she's writing something into a notebook.

"How do you know that song?" I ask, slowly approaching the bed. I take a seat on the edge.

The humming pauses just enough for her to lift her head and tell me, "We wrote it."

I'm shaking my head. "No. It changed, remember? That's not the one we…"

My voice dies off when my gaze dips to what she's doing.

She's not writing…

She's drawing.

My vision tilts, fracturing sharply, blackening out for just a split-second.

And then she's right in front of me, on her knees, arms looped loosely around my neck. A soft sort of wistful look overcomes her face, tilting her lips. "You okay?"

My pulse quickens, and it feels like I can't catch my breath.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" I hear myself speaking, but I don't feel my lips moving.

She cocks her head, and her nose wrinkles. "What do you mean?"

"They're…they're wrong."

She blinks, and the tiny, barely-there gold flecks surrounding her pupils grow brighter, impossibly so, making it look like they're shimmering.

My chest continues to squeeze, as my throat constricts, making it impossible to speak, much less breathe.

"Mason?" she says, and again the room shudders, winking in and out, like there's a bad signal.

One moment she's smiling, and the next she's frowning, chin wobbling. Her amber eyes that aren't actually hers well with tears, and my name echoing in the room is choked with grief. With fear. With desperation.

"How could you?" she whispers brokenly.

And I flinch back, tumbling off the bed into the slithering pit of shadows.

It's cold, so cold…

I can't stop shaking.

I can't breathe.

My lungs…

Something's not right.

I look around wildly, clutching my throat.

Izzy's standing over me, and around her head, her room seems to sort of be…disintegrating. Piecing away, like skin being shed to reveal something else underneath.

Shaking my head rapidly, I look up at my girlfriend—bore my gaze into those not-right eyes—and I hear myself ask, "What's happening?"

The black and pink bed behind her morphs into blues and grays.

The photos hanging all over her walls are gone, and in their place are shelves. Posters. Action figures.

"This isn't your room," I choke out. This time, I feel it. The words clawing their way out of my throat.

Izzy cocks her head. "No. It's not."

This time, she sounds angry. Accusatory.

I dig my fingers into my throat, squeezing and squeezing. Something wet touches my lip, and then I cough, and more wetness erupts out of me.

I'm shaking so hard, my bones ache.

"Iz-z-z-z," I stutter. My face thumps roughly against the carpet.

When did I lay down?

A high-pitched whining fills my ears, and once again my vision blackens, fracturing, shuddering?—

The bedroom is gone.

It's quiet.

I still can't breathe, but it's okay…

It doesn't hurt anymore. It's okay…

It's—

I hear the song again—my song—that one just out of reach. Darkness presses in from all around me, the piano all I can hear.

But then something appears up ahead, a figure—no two figures.

But only one is distinguishable, his blond hair lit up gold, haloed by an unseen light. He's dressed in all black, but it's dressy clothes, not his usual baggy jeans and t-shirts and sweaters.

They're hugging…no, swaying together, Jeremy and the faceless shadowed figure. Slow dancing…and in my head, I hear a voice echoing—my voice—as if trickling down from a well.

"You will have this. Of course you will have this…"

My feet are rooted to the spot that's not a spot.

"...he's gonna fall so hard. And you're gonna fall so hard right back…"

A pang fills my chest, searing my insides, constricting every bone, every muscle, every nerve and blood vessel.

Is this…is the future? I wonder.

Jeremy turns his head, so his cheek is pressed to the faceless figure's chest. And his gaze meets mine, amber brown, with the tiniest of gold flecks that shimmer even from all the way over there.

A soft, shy sort of smile lifts his cheek, and he dips his gaze, lashes fanning over his cheeks.

"Who is that?" a curious voice asks.

Frowning, I look down at the girl standing next to me, gazing off serenely in the direction of her brother. My gaze drops lower, to where her hand holds mine. I don't even feel it.

I feel nothing.

Nothing.

I feel like I'm…fading…

I try to answer her, but nothing comes out.

I don't know, I want to say, I don't know who that is.

But try as I might to speak, the words remain trapped right alongside the air in my lungs.

Izzy slowly tilt her head to look at me.

Wrong. It's all wrong.

She sighs. Then?—

"‘Find what you love, and let it kill you,' right?" she says bitterly, her voice deepening, turning raspy, sounding like…

Like mine.

And then she slaps me hard in the shoulder, so hard it feels like she stabbed a knife through me.

My entire body seizes, the world piecing away once more?—

"Come on, Mason. Come on, kid, wake up."

The voice… I know that voice…

Something taps my cheek. Hard.

"Did you call them?"

"They're on their way."

"Phoebe? Hey, shh, shh, it's okay. Gavin, get her out of here. It's okay, sweetie, I've got him, just go. Go!"

Muffled sobs register through some of the haze, and I swing my head around, looking, searching…

But no one else is there. Not Jeremy and that faceless figure.

Not my sister, whose cries I vaguely register.

What…what is this…

And just before the world ignites into blinding whiteness, I see Izzy, stepping back into the light. She smiles. Nods.

And I?—

GASP.

My eyes bulge, and Mom's there, her face obscured by the too-bright light coming in from behind her. The window.

Where…

"Mason, shh, shh, it's okay now. It's okay."

My fingers are clawing at her arms, and my eyes are bulging as I look around.

Where is she? Where is she?

Distantly, under the roar in my ears, I hear sirens wailing, and someone crying.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and my body lurches to the side as my lungs and throat seize, my body constricting as more foul tasting wetness spills from my lips.

Come back, come back, come?—

And there, stained across my eyelids, I see her…

Fading…

No, nonono, don't go.She turns away, and desperation takes hold of me. I try to scream out to her, but nothing comes out—nothing but choked, garbled gasps. Mom is saying something. She's tapping my face again.

I don't wanna, I don't wanna.

Izzy, no, come back. Please come back. No?—

The light swallows her.

Nononono.

Please don't leave me. Please don't fucking leave me, Iz. Please don't?—