don’t lie to you, Nic,” he said.
“But . . . what do you think happened to Corinne?” The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I imagined her on this porch, inches away—her hair falling out of a blanket, the shadow hovering near the edge of the frame.
He cut his eyes to me, held tighter to my hand. “Don’t you see? I don’t care what happened to her.”
“Well. It’s time to start caring.” I took a deep breath. “There are pictures, and she’s dead. So tell me. Tell me what happened.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I promise. Let it go.”
I nodded, let him wrap an arm over my shoulder. And I let myself believe him.
* * *
I HAVE TO TELL it this way, in pieces. I have to work my way up to it. Work my way back to it. I have to show you the beautiful things before I get to the ugly.
You have to understand that she was messed up.
First, I have to promise you that I loved her.
Corinne stood on the side of the road, her thumb sticking out. I didn’t slow down.
“You’re not gonna stop?” Tyler said.
“No,” I said.
My eyes went to hers; her thumb was down, and she was staring right back. I pressed the gas harder—Screw you, Corinne—and I blinked. Just once. Once, and she was already stepping into the road, right in front of the truck.
Tyler’s hands went out in front of him just as I slammed on the brakes—I cut the wheel hard and squeezed my eyes shut as the tires screamed for traction. The seat belt felt like it was cutting me in half, and I couldn’t breathe as we spun, the window cracking, then the thud of metal as we came to rest.
I struggled for my bearings as the adrenaline sharpened everything into focus at once, and then there was too much to process. We were facing the wrong way, pressed up against a guardrail, hovering too close to the edge. A branch jutted through the window in front of me, the edge slicing my shoulder, where it would leave a scar. Tyler’s voice, not making any sense, not coming all the way in. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t feel.
Until I could—everything all at once.
I felt a wave of nausea and a pain that began in my stomach and worked its way up my back. My hands were desperate and ineffective at the seat belt button. Tyler had to do it for me. We were too close to the edge, near a drop-off, so Tyler pulled me out his side.
There was a ringing in my ears, and the earth kept spinning on me, or I was spinning, looking for Corinne. I put my hand on the hood of the truck and realized it was running, hot to the touch. Everything tingled.
“Where is she?” I whispered.
Tyler had his hands on the hood of the truck, too, his arms shaking like he was about to fly apart.
“Corinne!” I screamed. “Answer me! What the fuck is wrong with you!”
In a panic, Tyler checked under the truck, and my stomach ended up in my throat. The road was dark and empty, the woods even darker, our headlights pointing back toward the caverns.
“Corinne!” I yelled again, bent over as I screamed her name.
Tyler peered over the edge of the drop-off, jogged down the road a bit before coming back. “I don’t see her,” he said.
“Did I hit her? Did I hit her? No, no, no,” I said, frantically making my way down the rocks. I tripped, my knees catching the sharp edges, my palms gripping the cold stone. The drop-off was dark and steep, and I couldn’t make out any shapes in the shadows.
“Stop, Nic. Stop.” Tyler was following me down the rocks. I couldn’t see her.
“Why would she do that? She jumped in front of me!”
“I know, I saw.” He grabbed my arms to keep me from going any farther. “Your shoulder,” he said, pressing his hand to it. But the pain was in my abdomen, radiating across my back.
My hands were shaking. “She stepped in front of me. They’ll believe me, right?”
His grip on my arms loosened for a moment as something twisted in his face.
“Call 911,” I said, because I couldn’t find her and she wasn’t answering.
He took his phone out with his uninjured hand and looked deep into my eyes as I felt another wave of pain roll through me. “I was driving,” he said.
“What? No. I