Over the blood rushing in my ears, I could hear Olivia crying out for me. “Don’t!” I wrenched back, but his grip tightened.

It was too late. Dustin grabbed the hem of my shirt, shoving his hand under it. Part of me wondered, in that brief second before his flesh touched mine, when Dustin had become such a bastard. He hadn’t always been this bad.

But then his hand was against my stomach, against my scars. The first time another human being had touched me in two years, and I wanted to puke.

His eyes popped open. The phone fell from his limp fingers, cracking when it hit the pavement.

Everything slowed down. A shiver slithered down my spine and coiled in my stomach. The sick sense of dread seeped into my veins like venom, familiar yet unwelcome. It reared, poised to strike, and then its sharp fangs bit deep. It was the same sensation I’d had right before I’d died.

Time seemed to stop.

Dustin’s eyes flared as the first wave of pain crashed into him. He went down on one knee, veins bulging in his forehead as his mouth worked in a silent scream. His hand was still against my stomach, as if he couldn’t let go.

I grabbed for his arm, but he started jerking like he was having a seizure. His normally tan skin turned sallow, and his hands spasmed.

When his eyes rolled back into their sockets, he fell backward like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

I stood over him, breathing heavily. “Dustin?”

He didn’t move.

I wrapped my arms around my waist, but that did nothing to stop the violent trembling. I knelt down, staring at his chest. One second passed. Five seconds, and then twenty, and his chest still hadn’t moved. My stomach rolled, almost forcing me to my knees. I backed up quickly, shaking my head.

He was dead—Dustin was dead.

And I had killed him.

Chapter 3

I don’t even remember getting back in my car, but I was sitting behind the wheel, staring out through the windshield. The keys bit through my gloves into the fleshy part of my palm.

“Emmie?” Olivia’s voice trembled.

I’d killed Dustin. Something shifted in my stomach again, which I found strange, because I hadn’t eaten dinner. Every muscle in my body seemed to lock up. Then I heard the door being unlocked in the back. I twisted around in the seat. “Don’t! Don’t open that door, Olivia!”

She froze, her lower lip trembling. “What’s happening?”

My hands shook as I turned back around. “Nothing… nothing is happening.”

Olivia let out a sob. It was little and soft, but so heartbreaking. “Emmie, I’m scared.”

I was terrified, too. I’d just killed someone—a classmate, a guy I used to date. Dustin had a mother and a father, a little brother, and friends. People who loved him and would miss him.

Part of me knew I needed to do something about this—call someone, go to the police. Tell them what had happened. Then what? I’d be sentenced, but I doubted jail would be in my future. A research facility sounded more likely. What would happen to Olivia? She’d go into foster care, and that was enough to give me nightmares. I couldn’t let that happen, but I couldn’t just walk away. My gaze dropped to my gloved hand. Desperation welled up, choking me from the inside out.