He’d let Brandon go out there all alone. He’d fought with him, and then he’d let him go.

He kept waiting to wake up and have it not be true anymore. It always was. It would always be true.

It wasn’t fair.

Mateo lay down on his bed and put his arm over his eyes to block out the light.

It didn’t matter what he did now. Nothing he did would ever matter again.

Lily was back in the hall bathroom with Delilah.

It was the night of that room party. The last time Lily had ever gotten drunk. The last time they’d kissed.

Lily knew she was dreaming. She knew it had been stupid to kiss Delilah the first time. She knew she shouldn’t do it again. She didn’t even want to.

She did it anyway.

This time, in the dream, Delilah didn’t kiss her back. This time she pulled away just as Lily’s lips brushed hers, and she started laughing.

Even though Lily knew it was a dream, even though she knew Delilah was in a coma and couldn’t hurt her anymore, the laughter hurt anyway.

“Dyke,” Delilah whispered. She laughed again.

Lily turned to go—out of this bathroom, out of this dream—but she stumbled on her crutches. Pain shot up her leg. It was strange how she could always feel pain, even in her dreams.

“Cripple,” Delilah said, still laughing. “I’m going to tell everyone all about you. What a freak you are.”

“Shut up,” Lily whispered. She wanted to yell, but she could barely speak. “You aren’t even real.”

Delilah’s laughter was deep and throaty, guttural. It got lower and lower as Lily struggled toward the door, until it turned into a howl.

“Shut up,” Lily whispered again. She lunged for the door, ignoring the pain, but she couldn’t move. Delilah had grabbed her around the waist from behind.

“Stop it!” Lily struggled. Delilah pinned her arms by her sides. Lily wondered if this was what it felt like to be paralyzed.

A sudden, blunt pain in the back of her head distracted her. Delilah had struck her. Lily tried to wrench her torso out of Delilah’s grip, but she couldn’t move an inch. Her head shrieked with pain. Then she felt a wrenching sensation in her leg and looked down. Bare white bone jutted out below her knee. Then a sharp slash came on both her wrists. Blood spurted out of her veins, running down to the floor in rivers.

“Oh God,” Lily tried to cry, but her throat wouldn’t make a sound.

“You don’t even believe in God,” Delilah told her through howls of laughter.

Lily opened her eyes. Delilah was gone.

She was in her room, on her bed, alone. But she could still hear Delilah laughing.