When my sobs die down, I realize Marcus isn’t whispering nonsense to me. It’s a good thing I’ve used up most of my tears because the words he murmurs squeeze my heart until I want to weep all over again.

“You’re my hero, Holly. You’re amazing. You’re so brave. I love you. I love you so much.”

30

HOLLY

The door looms tall before me.

I reach up, turn the knob, and push. The hinges squeak as the door swings wide, revealing the dark room beyond. My feet move forward on their own.

This is Grams’s room. She should be asleep here, in her bed.

Someone is under the covers, but when I pull the sheet back, it’s not my grandmother.

It’s Ben.

He lies still, eyes closed, like he’s sleeping, but his chest doesn’t rise. I put my hand on his shoulder and find him ice-cold.

The darkness around me shifts and moves, closing in on us. Ben begins to sink into the bed, as if the mattress were quicksand. He’s disappearing from my sight, and he does not respond when I scream his name.

There’s a pressure at my back, pushing me toward the sinkhole in the bed where Ben vanished. A feeling of chaos seeps from the black space.

I turn away, searching for the door. It stands there, closed again.

But the door isn’t an escape. Just a different hell.

Fear is a living thing, pulsing from the dark hole on the mattress. Wading through it, I throw one leg and then another over the edge to dangle in the abyss. There’s nothing but black beneath me.

But Ben is down there.

I let myself fall.

I’m awake.

As always, my clothing is soaked in sweat, the hospital gown sticking to my skin. But, for the first time, I don’t wake up from the nightmare, panting for breath, terrified that I just let someone die. Instead, a sense of peace settles over my shoulders.

I didn’t run from the darkness. I jumped into it.

BEN

When I sleep, it’s in short bursts. The pain medication helps with the aching in my abdomen, but it can’t get rid of the discomfort of lying in a strange bed. Of being back in a hospital. I’ve spent a lot of bad nights in these places, and it’s hard to separate myself from those memories.

So, when my eyes crack open to a dark room, I figure it’s because my body is complaining again.

Then, I hear the click of the doorknob.

A beam of light spills in from the hallway as the door pushes inward. Someone slips in through the gap, immediately shutting the door behind them, casting the room back into darkness, except for the faint glow of the machines monitoring my vitals. Everything past a certain point is out of focus, so I reach for my glasses, sliding them on.

The blurry figure solidifies.

Holly.

When our eyes catch, she grins, and my whole body clenches with happiness.