“There she is,” James remarks. “How’s the patient?”

“I’m going to walk home,” I say, working to keep my voice steady.

“What’s going on?” Zoe asks.

“Damien and I aren’t together anymore. I just broke up with him.”

James lets out a low whistle, dragging a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Zoe’s eyes have gone wide, limbs frozen. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat, palms sweaty as I take a step backward. “He didn’t take it well. And I understand that he needs you guys, so I’ll just keep my distance from now on.”

“Allie, wait—”

Without giving her a chance to finish, I leave the house, letting the door fall closed behind me. Thankfully, Damien’s house is in the same neighborhood as mine, and I don’t have too much trouble finding my way home.

As I shiver in the brisk, night air, I’m unable to decide whether I feel devastated or relieved.

11 | Allude

Over the weekend, I’m tormented by recurring nightmares about my breakup with Damien. They’re all the same—I’m always trapped inside his room, rooted to the floor, my wrist enclosed within his viselike grip, and no matter how much I pull and struggle, I can’t get away.

But in the worst of them, Zoe and James are there, too, blocking the door, watching me with blacked-out eyes and blank expressions as I try to get myself free. My breathing is frantic, and Damien weeps, inky tears trailing down his cheeks. I plead for him to let me go, but it’s as though he can’t even hear my voice.

“Damien,” I grind out desperately. “You’re hurting me!”

Branches burst through the floorboards beneath us, splinters of wood scattering on the floor as jagged trees grow in the middle of his bedroom. All of a sudden, Damien releases my arm, and the momentum sends me flying backward, slamming me into a tree trunk. He stands from the bed, and slowly, the three of them descend toward me.

The bedroom door swings open, blasting the room with a burst of piercing white light, and it’s the last thing I see before I jolt awake.

My brain is foggy, and my cheek is pressed to the cool floorboards of my own room. I push myself into a sitting position, unsure of how I made it down here in my sleep, heart racing. The clock shows it’s nearly noon.

The fallout of my relationship with Damien was absolutely inevitable, though I can’t help but wonder if I went about it in the correct way, or if there was something more I could’ve done to soften the blow.

I think of the low timbre of his voice as he asked me to reconsider, the specific words he used: I wish I could take it back.