“It’s a death omen,” I say, my voice on the verge of breaking. “It means death is close, it means it’s coming—” I wipe away the tears from my cheeks, and I wish he would reach out for me; I wish he would pull me into his arms and I could sink into his chest. I wish I could close my eyes and make everything dark and listen only to the sound of his breathing in my ears. But he doesn’t and my eyes dip to the floor, feeling like I might be sick. Like the room is tilting off axis and I don’t know how much longer I can keep from tipping over. From shattering completely. A glass girl made of glass shards. Who cries glass tears.

I stand up from the bed to feel the hard floor beneath my feet, to ground myself to something, and I walk to the window.

Oliver moves slowly, standing beside me, and I try to see what’s really there: I try to see all the things he’s buried deep, kept just out of reach. “Tell me the truth,” I say, I plead, each word a knife. “Tell me what happened at the cemetery, at the lake. Tell me if you killed him.”

The question is so sharp in the air that I can see the whites of his eyes expand and my heart wants to cave in. Little bursts of fear exploding in my mind.

He opens his mouth—about to speak—and suddenly I’m terrified of what he’s going to say. What he will admit. I shake my head and move closer to him. I want to take the words back. I want to stuff them down into my throat. I don’t want to know what he did. I don’t want the room to tip upside down when the truth leaves his lips—when his confession drops to the floor and shatters like too-thin glass.

“Wait,” I say, holding a hand up to stop him from speaking. I breathe and he breathes, the seconds swelling like a balloon about to pop. “Don’t say anything.”

He looks hurt, like he doesn’t understand.

“If you tell me,” I say, the words breathless on my lips, “I know it will change everything.” My teeth clamp down. “If you tell me, you can’t take it back.”

He steps toward me, his dangerous, perfect, awful green eyes melting in with the dark room.