Another wave of nausea passes over me and I ball my hands into fists. I lean forward, tempted to sit on the floor of the cart and put my head between my knees, skull pounding. Every time it moves, I have to fight to keep from spilling my guts onto the floor.

When I look up, the sight of the world moving in a blur beneath us causes me to slump forward, gripping the railing for balance.

“Here,” Damien offers, reaching out.

Instantly, an image of another hand jolting toward me flashes through my mind, filling my chest with an immediate sense of dread. I hear another scream, but it’s an echo, coming from somewhere inside of me. Blanching, I shove Damien’s arm abruptly as the world turns black.

“Don’t touch me!”

He holds his hands up in surrender, and my vision wavers between a dark forest and the bright lights of the fair, unable to process either sight. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “I was just trying to help.”

It takes a few seconds for what just happened to sink in, embarrassment flooding my cheeks. We’ve attracted the attention of everyone within earshot. “Oh my God.” I place a hand to my lips. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry.”

He breathes out a laugh, running a hand through his hair and looking nervous. “It’s okay.” He pauses. “Are you all right, though?”

“I—I think so.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Let’s go back to having a good time.”

Clasping my hands in a white-knuckled grip, I resist the urge to flinch at every shout in the distance and banish all thoughts of shadowy woods and malice from my brain. We don’t say anything for the rest of the ride, and when we step off, Damien has to grab my arm to keep me from collapsing to the ground.

He walks me over to a bench, and I shiver, my legs shaking even as I’m sitting down.

“I don’t think you’re all right, Allie.”

“I am, I just need a minute.”

The headache rattles around in my skull, and I can’t stop myself from wincing.

“Come on,” he says, gesturing to the entrance with his chin. “I’ll take you home.”

Begrudgingly, I drag myself to my feet, feeling embarrassed. Dr. Meyer told me I would have flashbacks, strange dreams, and tiny whispers of memory, but he failed to mention the possibility of reality-­altering hallucinations.

The night has grown completely dark by the time Damien drops me off. As we approach the house, the motion light flickers on, feeling like a glow of warmth and safety in the middle of the black.

I’m unnerved by the image I saw. It feels like another frame in the short slide show of pictures that I remember from the night of the accident, one of the many puzzle pieces scattered throughout my subconscious.