Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The worst part of losing someone you love is the void that comes after.

The day Anna died was the worst day of my life; the pain of losing my younger sister ripped through me like a thousand blades—eternal and unyielding. My mother’s gut-wrenching cries were forever imprinted on my soul, and I would never forget the raw scratch of my own sobs.

And yet… somehow, what came after was worse.

After Anna died, everything became nothing.

I didn’t go with my parents to identify her body; I wasn’t strong enough. But the moment I saw the desolate, broken, and grotesque expression on my mother’s face when she emerged from the morgue… everything went dark.

It felt like the sun stopped shining, and I could no longer hear the birds chirping or the magic in my favorite songs. Food tasted like cardboard, and coffee did nothing to soothe the exhaustion in my bones. For thirteen days, I forgot to show up to work because the grief was too heavy to let me out of bed.

Friends, family, and acquaintances called, but their condolences fell on ringing ears. How many times could one hear “I’m sorry for your loss” and have it mean nothing at all before they lost their mind?

Three hundred and ninety-six times.

I lifted my eyes as the three hundred and ninety-sixth person spoke. “Hey, your sister was that Fallon girl, right? What a freak accident. I’m sorry for your loss.”

That Fallon girl.

Freak accident.

I’m sorry for your loss .

The exact words I’d been hearing over and over again in the seven months since Anna drowned. Her accident made state-wide television.

YOUNG WOMAN MISSING AFTER FLASH FLOOD

THE SEARCH CONTINUES FOR THE VICTIM OF A FREAK FLASH FLOOD

ANNA FALLON FOUND DEAD THREE DAYS AFTER FLASH FLOOD ACCIDENT

Everyone knew who Anna Fallon was and that she was found dead with her arms wrapped around her dog’s body after being swept away by a flash flood.

I’d run through the scenario in my head a thousand times. It had stormed earlier in the night, and at the time, it had seemed like any other burst of rain, thunder, and lightning. We couldn’t know how high the river had overflowed or that the rain had flooded through the streams on the mountain path Anna ran through every single day with her dog, Piper.

It was just like any other storm.

And yet, Anna was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a flash flood tore through her path—taking her and Piper with it.

It took three days to find her body.

That was seven months ago.

At first, the apologies came in broken whispers. People stared at me with sad eyes; some even cried. Over time, though, it seemed to be less about the apologies and more about them recognizing an echo of Anna’s face in mine.

Most days, it only took a glance or two at my bright red hair and freckled cheeks for them to realize I looked exactly like the girl they’d seen on the news. My loss was their revelation.

My twin sister died, and all they cared about was that they’d seen her on the news.

And it wasn’t their fault, not really. They didn’t know Anna. They didn’t know me or my family or what it felt like to lose the brightest part of our lives. Luckily for them, they were oblivious to the constant ringing in my ears and the blackened, eternal ache that riddled every one of my heartbeats.

It was fine that they didn’t know or understand; I wouldn’t wish this pain on my worst enemy. But every time a stranger told me how sorry they were and looked at me with that twinge of pity in their eyes, another piece of me broke.

And after three hundred and ninety-six times, there was none of me left.

I looked between the kind, middle-aged woman standing in front of me, and the can of green beans I held in my hand, hovering over the scanner. The constant ringing in my ears grew louder, almost deafening, as I realized what my life had become.

A series of nonsense apologies.

A monotonous job that didn’t give two shits about me.

A dull, gray town that meant nothing without Anna.

“My dear, are you alright?” The woman asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. “The green beans are eighty-nine cents.”

My chest constricted as I looked down at the green beans again, my hand trembling.

Seven months ago, my life was perfect. I had a job I loved and a sister to come home to every day. My parents made dinner most nights. Every Sunday, my dad made pancakes for breakfast, and then we would all take Piper on a walk to the dog park. When Anna wasn’t home, Piper slept with me in my bed—all sixty pounds of golden fluff taking up most of my bed.

And then Anna died, and everything stopped.

I lost my job because I couldn’t get out of bed. My parents never made dinner anymore, and we hadn’t eaten pancakes in seven months. We didn’t go to the dog park, and my bed was always cold. I started working at the grocery store to pay my bills, but my shifts were a monotonous cycle of clocking in, clocking out, going to bed, and repeating.

“Agnes?” The woman tried again. Her voice came out harsher then; she was losing patience with me.

Without really thinking, I unpinned my nametag and set it on the scanner alongside the can of green beans. Feeling like every movement was weighed down by the earth itself, I raised my eyes to meet the stranger’s—only for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

Her voice echoed behind me as I turned and walked away, past the other registers where my coworkers began to call my name in a chorus. I passed the bakery and the floral department without really seeing any of it. My feet carried me to my locker, where I only paused to grab my purse and car keys. I barely heard my manager calling my name. I kept walking.

I walked until I got in my car and started the engine, the chilly November air making it stutter before it fully started. The knot in my stomach grew into a boulder, and for half the drive home, I worried I would be sick all over myself.

What had my life become?

I was living in the shadow of my sister’s death, stuck in a neverending time loop where I woke up, went to work, slept, and never stopped to realize my life was passing me by.

Anna was twenty-three years old when she died.

I was twenty-four now.

As I drove, something my father had said during Anna’s funeral came back to me. “ A parent should never have to experience the pain of outliving their child ,” he’d said. “ But I hope Anna’s life, and her death, will serve as a reminder to every one of you that our time on this earth is fleeting. We could live for twenty-three years, or a hundred; that’s not up for us to decide. The only thing we get to decide is how we spend our time. In Anna’s memory, I choose to be more conscious about the days or years I may have left… ”

I wasn’t listening then, and my father wasn’t listening now. When he wasn’t working, he sat on the rocking chair in the corner of the front porch.

I turned my car into the driveway of our home, and there he was. Grief had aged my father drastically, deep lines creasing his forehead and dark circles deepening his eyes. Gray strands littered his hair more than ever, and he sat with hunched shoulders. He looked up as I turned off my headlights and scrambled out of the car, but there was no recognition in his eyes—there never was anymore.

Climbing the front steps and crossing the porch, I leaned down to kiss his forehead. My eyes drifted over the newspaper in his hand, dated April 9th.

The day Anna died.

The ink on the edges of the paper were worn away from his constant touch. Teardrops stained and wrinkled the pages.

“Are you home early?” He asked, his voice broken from lack of use.

I kneeled next to my dad and placed my hand over his. “Yeah. Is Mom home?” He shrugged and stared at the newspaper, lost in his own mind again. I drew in a breath and squeezed his hand before standing. “Don’t stay out too long, it’s getting cold.”

He didn’t respond.

Inside, I found my mother where she always was.

I pushed open the door to Anna’s room, instantly overcome with the scent of cinnamon from the candle she used to burn. I tried not to look around the room too much or take too much notice to the fact that everything was exactly as she’d left it before her run.

My mother sat in the middle of the floor, clutching Anna’s baby blanket to her chest.

“Mama?” I asked, kneeling next to her. “Have you had any dinner?”

“There were sandwiches at work today,” she replied, raising her head to take me in. A small smile whispered across her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I ate then.”

The reality of what my family had become sank deeper into my bones. Unease settled in my stomach, and I reached for my mother’s hand. “How about I make some dinner?” I asked.

She looked between me and the blanket in her hands, like she couldn’t bear to part with it. I tried to keep my expression even, though my eyes blurred with tears for a split second. Ever so slowly, my mother lowered the blanket to the floor and took my hand.

I led her to the kitchen, feeling like I was underwater. All at once, I felt like this life wasn’t mine anymore. Grief and loss had taken every bright, joyful thing away from my family and left us with nothing.

And I didn’t know whether I would live another day or another hundred years.

But I didn’t want to live like this anymore.