“I need some fresh air.” I shut the door and walk away. My shoes splash through deep puddles, soaking my socks. Water trickles down my hair and into my jacket. I’ll probably catch a cold, but what does it matter? I won’t be alive after tomorrow anyway.

Once I’m on the other side of the building, out of sight, I slouch against the wall. I close my eyes and try to block out all thoughts but the sound of the torrent around me. I try to forget what’s going to happen tomorrow. I try to forget that we might be brain damaged soon. I try to forget what I did to those cops. But of course I can’t. I remember every single second. Every tiny detail.

Right now, future shock doesn’t sound so bad. I’d do anything to wipe these twenty-four hours from my brain.

I finally understand why I’m going to kill myself. I’ll never be able to escape the memory of killing the others or the guilt. How could I live with myself after that?

I pull the gun out of my backpack, the metal heavy and cold in my hand. I should pull the trigger now and save the others’ lives. What exactly am I living for, anyway? There’s no one who would miss me. Even if I live, I won’t have much of a future. Not a monster like me.

Footsteps approach and I shove the gun into my backpack. Adam stands in the rain, dark hair clinging to his face, wet clothes clinging to his tall, lean frame. His eyes find mine through the downpour. I don’t want him to see me like this, but it’s too late.

“You’re still bleeding,” he says. “Let me look at it.”

Am I? I touch my face and find a trace of blood mixed in with the rain. Not enough to worry about.

He moves closer and opens his first aid kit. I want to tell him not to bother, to leave me alone, but my throat aches and I can’t summon the energy to speak. I keep my eyes to the side, unable to look at him as he cleans my wound. He works quickly but his touch is gentle. I feel the heat rising off his body and his breath on my cheek.

When he’s done, he brushes damp hair out of my face, his fingers trailing lightly across my skin. “Are you okay?”

His touch makes me feel things I can’t allow myself to feel right now. I pull away. “I’m fine.”

“Elena, you can trust me.”

My breath catches at his words. Is this what Future-Adam meant when he told me to trust Adam when the time came? Is this that moment?