I press my lips to her forehead, tasting copper and salt, my tears mixing with her blood. "It's okay Leni." The words ghost against her skin.

"I've got you. I always got you. Hold on a little longer, okay? I love you."

The hospital doors part like gates to purgatory, flooding us with harsh fluorescent light. The antiseptic smell burns my nostrils, mixing with the metallic tang of blood that's soaked through my shirt. Everything moves in slow motion and too fast at once—a herd of squeaking shoes on linoleum, metal instruments clattering, voices overlapping in urgent tones.

"Help!" The word tears from my throat. "Somebody help her!"

A nurse emerges followed by doctors. When they take Nora from my arms, the void left behind is physical, an amputation of something vital. I stumble backward, my vision tunneling to my hands—red, so red, like I've been finger-painting in nightmares.

"What happened?" The question floats somewhere above my head.

It's Jay's voice that cuts through. "Car accident—she was trapped, unconscious. We broke the window to get her out—there was fire, gas everywhere. I don't know how long she was there. It was a hit and run. She's lost a lot of blood and she's not breathing right—please, just help her!"

They disappear behind swinging doors, taking Nora with them. I'm left staring at my hands, at the abstract art of her life force drying on my skin. The room tilts like a carnival ride gone wrong.

She's not breathing right.

No, she isn't breathing at all.

My knees give out and a sound escapes me—something primal and broken that I barely recognize as human. The truth hits me in waves: nobody knows. Her mom is still laughing at some joke, Ollie's probably rolling his eyes at another of Marcus's stories, all of them existing in a world where Nora is still whole and safe.

"Nate." Jay's voice anchors me as his hands grip my shoulders. He crouches before me like a shield against the fluorescent glare. "She's a fucking warrior, okay? She's gonna pull through this. That girl is stronger than you think."

The words bounce off me like rain on glass. Even if she survives—even if by some miracle she opens those green eyes again—will I ever forgive myself for being the reason they almost closed forever?

Jay helps me to a row of cold, plastic chairs. My legs won't stop shaking, hands twitching in my lap like dying birds.

"I need your phone," I manage, my voice hollow and cracked.

Jay hands it over. My fingers tremble as I dial Mom's number, each ring echoing in my skull like a death knell.

"Nate! Thank God!" Kat's voice bursts through, bright as sunshine. "Your mom has been worried sick. Where are you? Is Nora with you?"