I push past the curtain into the main part of the club. A different girl is dancing on stage now. I dart past her and into the bathroom, which looks like it hasn’t been updated—or cleaned—since my time. I stare into the mirror over the sink, trying to ignore the computerized ads that dance along the edge of it. I still hear Zoe muttering in my head, along with Chris and Trent trying to talk to her. Even in the bathroom I can’t escape them. I switch off the camera feed and my head goes silent again.

Under the dim light my dark skin looks sallow, my brown eyes tired. My long hair is frizzing out. I look lost. Defeated. Weak.

I splash water on my face and smooth out my hair. Pull it together, I tell myself. Just because Zoe’s dead doesn’t mean you are too.

I use the toilet and return to our private room behind the curtain. Jasmine is leaning against the wall, examining her nails. Adam looks up at me, his face creased with worry. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I switch my camera back on. The other end is silent. “Do you know who killed Zoe?” I ask Jasmine.

“Nah, I was only eight when she died. I don’t remember anything, except that she was shot in her girlfriend’s apartment.”

“No, please, no,” Zoe says, with a sob in her voice. “This can’t be happening. I don’t believe it!”

I hear static and a thump on the other end, and then hear Chris yell Zoe’s name in the background. Followed by more static.

“Zoe?” Adam asks. “Chris?”

Silence.

I dart through the curtain and into the club, while Jasmine yells, “Hey!” Adam is right behind me as we step outside.

It’s raining now, and I’m quickly soaked without my coat. We rush to the back of the club where the others are supposed to be waiting. I hold my hand over my eyes to peer through the downpour, looking for any sign of them.

Farther down the street, I see Trent and Chris running down the alley, their feet splashing against the sidewalk. Zoe’s in front of them and she runs like a scared child, either indifferent or completely unaware of the rain pouring down on her.

Adam and I take off after them, racing down the rain-slicked road. Zoe suddenly collapses in the middle of the alley. Is she hurt? I run faster.

I catch up to them, panting and completely soaked through, with Adam just behind me. Chris stands beside Zoe, who kneels on the ground, shivering. Trent smokes a cigarette, his hand shaking as he flicks the ash onto the wet ground.

Zoe peers up at us with haunted eyes, rain dripping down her face and mixing with her tears. “This future. I don’t want it. I hate it.”