Prologue

They say lightning never strikesthe same place twice, but that's a myth. In fact, there's proof that lightning can strike the same place more than once. For instance, the Empire State Building in New York City is hit by lightning about twenty-three times a year. There are also numerous documented cases of individuals or objects being struck by lightning multiple times.

I should be considered one of those individuals. Even when this lightning is from an emotional storm, each strike has scorched a part of my soul.

When my high school girlfriend died while vacationing on Bantayan, it felt like the first bolt had struck. It hit as her father said, "Cardiogenic shock secondary to myocardial infarction," when he called my parents to deliver the news.

At sixteen, I couldn't grasp the medical terms. All I knew was that the girl I loved, the one I had given a promise ring and planned on spending my forever with, was gone.

Gone.

And now, years later . . .Well, I'm starting to believe forever is a fucking lie.

It's a word people love to romanticize—a cruel joke used to dress up hopes and dreams. It's just threads of lies and deception.

Loving someone with your whole heart only to lose them? It's like getting hit with 100 million volts of electricity at once—your world upended in an instant.

When it happened the first time, I was gutted, left wandering through the smoking remains of the life we'd planned together.

This time . . . This time is so much worse. I can't breathe, can't even feel my heart beating in my chest. My lungs constrict as if two giant hands squeeze the air from them.

The pain is paralyzing in its intensity. As I watch the flatline on the monitor, I collapse onto the floor, doubling over with the force of the pain. It's too much. I can't bear to think of this life without her.

What happened to fucking forever?

What happened to all our promises?

What happened to . . .?

Nothing, of course, because forever is just a fucking fantasy.

Forever is just a seven-letter word for a pain that never fully heals. The kind that lurks under the surface, ready to ambush you when you least expect it. I wandered for years in the wasteland she left behind, unwilling to risk that devastation again.

I promised myself I would never love again, but I fell for the fantasy of forever one more time, and now how am I supposed to survive?