I stayed up late, trying to think of a million logical reasons as to why Zoe might have my cell phone locked away in her bedroom and came up empty. It’s one of the missing puzzle pieces I thought I wanted, but now that I have it, I would rather go back to my ignorance. At least then I felt relatively safe.

Sliding out of bed, I make my way to the shower downstairs, hoping a good dose of hot water will give me some clarity. As it courses through my hair, I try to will the images of the nightmare away. Maybe if I wish hard enough, all of this will disappear, and I’ll wake up in the hospital all over again and start fresh.

But it’s foolish to think that way. I’ve known ever since the moment I first opened my eyes that I was cursed, destined to find darkness around every corner.

Stepping out of the shower, I hurry back to my bedroom to get dressed before grabbing both of the cell phones and my laptop and sliding on my coat and boots. I leave the house quietly, making sure I don’t wake anyone. Scout watches me, and when she begins to whine, I bring a finger to my lips, as if she’ll understand the gesture. It seems to work, and I’m able to slip away otherwise undetected.

The morning air is brisk, though with each day that passes, the temperature grows warmer as spring settles in. Everyone else at school is starting to worry about prom and graduation, but all of it feels so hollow.

Restless, I stride down the sidewalk, vaguely paying attention to the names of the streets as I make my way through the neighborhood. Eventually, the fancier houses become more sparse, and the longer I walk, the more depressing the area around me becomes.

When I get close to my destination, the disparity between the nicest parts of Pender Falls and the not-so-nice parts makes me feel disheartened.

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the tiny house across the street. The siding is white and chipping, and some of the shingles on the roof are beginning to lift. I slide my phone out of my coat pocket, shooting off a hurried text message.

Come outside, it reads, humming as it delivers.

I jump slightly as the front door of the house clicks open, revealing a very perplexed-looking Mason Byrne.

His eyebrows are drawn together as usual, his hair is mussed with sleep, and I would find all of it endearing if I wasn’t so uneasy. I walk up the creaky wooden steps of the porch until I’m a couple of feet away, and the shock gracing his features doesn’t budge, as if the sight of me standing on his front porch is too strange to comprehend.

“Good morning,” I say, stupidly self-conscious all of a sudden.