The going is fine at first. I’m seemingly the only one awake and the air is already hot. The rhythm of my feet scraping against the ground is slowly dulling every other sound; seagulls scream across the bay. The air smells hot and clear. I am seventeen and my name is Mona Perry and this is my body and I am running, running, and I could continue to run until I drop and no one would know the difference.

Two minutes in and my breath is already sputtering out in uneven gusts, my calves burning red. My whole body is prickling, almost, and then I realize I’m not imagining it and I peel a pair of mating mayflies from my arm. I wipe my forehead. A bead of sweat travels down my chest and I smooth down my shirt to eradicate it and all the while my legs are turning like cogs.

When I guess I’ve been running for twenty minutes, I check my phone. It’s actually only been ten – and I’ve only gone half a mile.

I wipe a bit of spit from the corner of my mouth with so much force that my incisor cuts into my lip and a burst of copper sinks into my tongue. What’s wrong with me? God, it’s hot. My eyes water.

Now I’m through the cemetery and I stumble on a shallow hole in the ground. I nearly fall but catch myself. The burn is wonderful. The burn keeps me alive. I am boiling water and the burn is all that will keep me moving. I’m impossibly warm. Hell is not as hot as my flesh on Sandown Bay.

Faster.

I think of Ellis the night of the bonfire and his big pleading eyes shining wet in the moonlight. I think about lying to him, right to his face, want to throw myself into the sea. I don’t want to lie to him, but I have to so I can help him.

Am I like my sister? Am I just here to hurt and lie and take? Am I worse than my sister? Can I not even wear the mask she wore?

Legs legs one foot in front of the other shick shick shick …

Will the thick deep green be the last thing I ever see when I wade out of this world and am given back to the dark?

Roxy, where are you? Roxy Raines and your poor lonely grandson. Show yourself so I can bring you home, so all of them can learn your real name, so I can dust off your bones.

Do I have anything to offer the world besides anger …

I’ve made Dad so unhappy. Celeste made him happy. Mom made him happy. It should have been me.

Anger and fear …

I’ll make Dad happy. Bones will make him happy. I’ll be worth something, then. Bones will bring me closer to Celeste.