“We are going to be remembered,” she said, smiling at me. “Together.”

“Okay.” I smiled back.

“We’re different, you and me,” she continued. “Special. People like Melody Moon have had perfect lives with nice parents and nice clothes and nice everything. And I used to be so jealous of people like her.” I knew that feeling all too well, could still feel echoes of that desperation of wanting to have different parents, a different life.

What Elise was saying: Our wounds made us special.

“But you know what, Rem? I’m glad things haven’t been easy for me. I’m stronger than all of them and I know what I’m capable of. But whatever. Family is the people you love, not the people who gave birth to you or raised you. You don’t owe anyone anything. The only allegiance you have is to yourself and the people you choose to have in your life. As soon as I graduate, I’m out of here.”

“Take me with you,” I said, only half joking, watching for her reaction.

“Of course,” she said like it was a forgone conclusion. “You and me, we’re family.”

Elise liked that I needed protection, and I liked that she wanted to protect me. We needed each other, we chose each other, and there was power in that.

MONDAY // AUGUST 28 // DAY 353

19.

There was power in that choice, and I can still feel it almost a year later. And now I am faced with another.

Elise and I, we’re family. I needed protection then and she gave me shelter. But now it’s Elise who needs me.

“Why don’t we start over,” Detective Ward says, and we begin again on Sunday night. We run through it one more time.

“Why were you at Elise’s house?” she asks.

“We wanted to be alone,” I tell her.

“Because you were fighting?”

I nod.

“What were you fighting about?” She tugs gently at her sleeves to straighten them. She seems relaxed and calm, while I feel just seconds away from losing it.

“I don’t even remember,” I lie, watching her carefully for a reaction. “It was something stupid.” She remains neutral in her expression and I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

“Then you called Jack,” she says.

“I called Jack and he came over. I let him in but Elise was out on the balcony in the back.” I can still picture it now: Jack at the door, me stepping out. “Let me talk to her alone,” he said, kissing me on the forehead. “Go home, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” I said, and walked down the steps and path to the driveway and my car. I was about to leave, my key in the ignition, when the gunshots rang out one after the other. I ran and ran and ran, but I was too late.

Caught up in the memory, I start to cry, the salt stinging my skin. I am the ocean, it seems. I’ll never run out of tears.