It was supposed to be harmless. No one would get hurt, least of all Jack.

“Do you want to know what I was thinking that night?” she asked me as we drove north on 75. “That night, I was lying there in the dark after he left, head spinning, barely able to see out of my right eye, every breath excruciating—I was lying there and all I could think was, ‘I hope I die.’ ”

I looked at her sharply, lips parted in shock. “Elise.”

“All I could think was, I hope I die, because then everyone would know what a monster he was. He’d spend the rest of his pitiful life rotting away in some prison like he deserves.

“And everyone would miss me, and talk about how much they loved me and what a good person I was, and how sad—she died so young. That’s what happened at my mother’s funeral. She was a shitty person but everyone cried and talked about her like she was this angel who’d been stolen from us. I couldn’t understand why people act like that at funerals. Don’t speak ill of the dead, all that bullshit. And lying there, wishing I’d die, I understood. Everybody knows funerals aren’t for the dead, that they’re for the people who are left behind. But funerals aren’t just a place for people to mourn or find closure. They’re also a place for people to get a front-seat preview of their own demise.” She turned to me, our eyes making contact for what felt like a long second before she looked back at the road ahead, hands gripping the wheel tightly. “Funerals remind people that they’ll be dead one day, that everyone dies, and no one wants to be remembered as anything other than a saint. That is why people at funerals collectively rewrite the deceased’s biography.”

I didn’t know what to say. She’d clearly been thinking about this for a while, which was devastating. I didn’t want to think about Elise’s funeral, anyone’s funeral. And if she had died that night, I could never have forgiven myself. I’d been selfish. Elise was there for me at all of my low points—the breakup with Cameron, the battles between my parents—but I wasn’t there when she needed me. I’d been a coward, running away from her when things got hard. The first tears hit my lap before I even realized I was crying. I couldn’t believe I almost lost her. Now when I looked at her beside me, I couldn’t imagine a future without her.

“I’ve always wanted to disappear, you know?” she continued. “Be that girl who disappears to live her life, and everyone wonders what happened to her from time to time. Then one day, they’d see me on TV or read about me and know just how extraordinary I was.” She wanted to be remembered. “Except in this case, they’d wonder what could have happened to me.” Her voice had a dreamlike sheen to it.