“Something that shouldn’t have almost happened again, especially right now.” He looks at me remorsefully. “I’m so sorry, Allie. I thought I had more self-control than that.”

“Again?” The urge to vomit is suddenly sharp. “You’ve done this before?”

Parker is silent for a few beats. “No,” he says finally. “Last time you kissed me. But—”

“This is so messed up!”

“It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right, it won’t,” I say, gritting my teeth. “You should go.”

Without another word, he heads out the door, closing it gently behind him. Once he’s gone, my face crumples, and I press my fists against my forehead, mumbling a string of curses like a mantra. What kind of person would do this to their sister, to their boyfriend, to anyone?

Minutes ago, it had felt like I had someone in my corner. Now all I feel is the sting of betrayal.

Removing my hands from my face, I stare at the wall of pictures, automatically drawn to a photo of Parker, Audrey, and me. I wonder what other secrets lie behind the multitude of faces and how long it’ll take before they all start coming to the surface.

02 | Return

With each day that passes, the fact that I likely won’t be regaining my memory any time soon becomes more apparent.

Because of this, Dr. Meyer suggested that I try to make my return to school, though Sofia took it as less of a suggestion and more of an order. I think they’re all hoping that everything will magically come back to me if my circumstances are exactly how they were before the accident.

The thought of having to spend the day with hundreds of people I don’t know is terrifying. Dealing with three virtual strangers every day for the past two weeks since leaving the hospital has been more than enough. My time has been made up of stifled conversations, trips to the neurologist, and wandering around inside because anything beyond my front door is completely unknown, and therefore unwanted.

After extracting myself from under the bedsheets, I tiptoe to the downstairs bathroom, not wanting to wake anyone. The house is old, and the wood floors creak and groan with every step. Once I’ve finished and washed up, I look in the mirror, studying the face that stares back at me once more: the vacant, dark eyes and pink lips pressed into a firm line. I wonder how long it will take me to get used to my reflection. Tilting my chin, I turn my head, examining it from all angles.

I try out several smiles but all of them feel horribly fake and tight. The only way my expression looks okay is if I’m completely emotionless.

When I exit the bathroom, Parker is in the hallway, and I stop short.