I pushed open the back door of The Catch, the slam of it against the brick wall a satisfying sound. I strode across the patio, scattered with tables but thankfully empty of customers, and headed straight for the beach. I had to keep moving. It was the only thing I knew for certain. I had to keep my body in motion, or the energy crackling through my veins would explode out of my skin, and I would lose it.

Lose it on a level that would mean I would frighten everyone around me. I pushed my legs to walk faster, my boots kicking up stones along the rocky shore. The ocean had always given me a sense of peace, but even the crashing of the waves and the smell of the salty sea air couldn’t calm me now.

I pressed on, picking up my pace even more. I kicked at a piece of driftwood in my path, sending it flying back to the sea. If only I could drop-kick Ford back to Los Angeles as easily. A trickle of guilt slid through me at the thought, quickly morphing back to anger. I didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. He was the one who ran away. The person who knew better than anyone the pain of losing Violet. I’d never understand why he’d made the decision to leave instead of letting us lean on each other. But the why no longer mattered. Only his actions did.

Actions that had left me alone and grieving while my family fell apart around me. Alone to deal with surgeries and the hours upon hours of painful physical therapy. Alone to face the blame and pressure of my parents. Alone when they tried to twist me into some sort of Violet 2.0.

Sweat trickled down my back, and I ripped open the snaps on my flannel shirt, tearing it off. I balled it up, fingers digging into the fabric. I kept pressing on, feet moving even faster until I was almost running, memories assaulting me in a way they hadn’t in years. Crying in my hospital bed, my body shuddering with sobs and pain. My sister. Ford. I’d lost them both. Violet had no choice, her life had been ripped away from her in a single second. But Ford…he had chosen to leave. And that might’ve left the deepest wound of all.

My steps slowed and I pressed the balled-up flannel to my mouth, letting out a guttural scream. Pouring out every ounce of pain and grief, every last bit of dashed hopes and dreams left in ruins, every memory tainted by betrayal. I expelled it all and then collapsed to the ground.