She throws her arms wide and he reaches for her, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her so that her legs kick in the air. He stumbles under her, losing his balance, and they fall into a thick patch of snow-dusted grass, her landing on top of him with her body pressed against his.

That’s when I get a clear look at her face: it’s mine. It’s me. My blood refuses to pump, my mind to process what’s going on, my lungs to draw breath.

I watch myself lean over Elias, clean hair falling over my shoulder and skirting the edges of his jaw. Him reaching up a hand to tuck it behind my ear. My fingers touching Elias’s cheek and him smiling, his eyes seeing only me.

There’s nothing in the world except for me and Elias.

Except it isn’t me. I’m here in the hallway. I’m just a spectator as he reaches up his hand to her left cheek. Traces his thumb along the edge of her lip.

And because it isn’t me on top of him, because it isn’t me he’s touching, there are no scars. The skin’s flawlessly smooth.

Because he’s not touching me. He’s touching my sister, Abigail.

Then and there my heart shatters—shards of it slicing through my skin, razor sharp along each and every scar covering my body.

Abigail smiles, her expression purest joy, and Elias can’t help but grin back at her, his eyes bright with love as he pulls her face to his and kisses her.

It’s passion and need and worship as his hands tangle in her hair and she grabs for his shoulders.

It’s white-hot pain searing through me. He nibbles at her ear and she swats at him, laughing, and he grabs her hands and pulls her to him again. Pulls her fully against him. Over him and along him. I can’t hear the words he speaks to her, murmurs in her perfect ears, but I can feel the weight of them. Like they fill my hollow chest and drag me down.

He places his hands on either side of Abigail’s cheeks. His eyes eat every inch of her and he pulls her to him again, brushing his lips along her forehead and down her hairline. Over her ear and along the underside of her jaw until her mouth hovers over his.

I can’t breathe. Can’t move. Can’t feel anything in my body because everything’s numb—except for the broken pieces of my heart. I feel as if I’ve been turned to dust, ready to be blown apart and scattered far away.