Every Little Piece - By Kate Ashton Page 0,62

head. Even though I went out with Tate and pretended to have a life, it was a lie. Noah asked him to be my friend and act interested so I’d get out and live.

The rage pulses through my body. It’s not something I can define. It’s not as simple as being angry at my brother for playing a prank on me. He created a life for me that wasn’t real. He tried to sugar coat my days so I’d forget. But doesn’t he realize that that moment stays with me every second of every day? It’s always there, pulsing in the background, reminding me. Taunting me.

If minutes go by and I forget? The shame falls fast and heavy. I can’t ever forget what I did and what I left behind.

I leave the perimeter of my town, of my memories, and slam my hand against wheel. My eyes are swollen and the tears have been streaming down my cheeks even if I’ve been too caught up to recognize them. This pain is different. It’s raw and exposed. It breaks through the frozen layers of my heart. I need it. Desperately.

I careen down the road, taking corners with a screech and barely paying attention to where I’m going. I spin the wheel to turn right toward Shore Drive and I lose control. The car can’t quite make it, and I zoom forward.

I see the telephone pole and slam on the brakes, for as much as I talk about not deserving to live, I’m scared to die. Deep down I’m a coward. I ran from everything. I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t apologize. I just ran.

The car pushes forward on its own and I hear the crash and feel the impact as the airbag deploys and slams into me. I don’t move. The smell of burnt rubber stains the air and as hard as I push against the door, it won’t open. I turn my head to the side. It already throbs and my body pounds with pain.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Too little too late. The tears make silent tracks and drip into my mouth and down my neck.

But then I hear the whining screech of brakes and a horn. I can’t even turn my head to see what’s coming.

I don’t scream. Not until I feel the crash and hear the twisting of metal. Pain shoots through my head and the other side of the car crunches inwards and presses against me.

I hear shouts and bangs. Someone is yelling but I can’t move. Darkness surrounds me. Blood is in the back of my throat. More banging and then the splinter of glass. A hand touches my cheek. The words are blurred and I can’t seem to get my mouth to move. Words tumble out but they are jibberish.

Metal rips with a loud shredding noise and then hands are around my shoulder and I’m being carried.

That’s the last I remember.

I jump in my car and race back toward Shore Drive. I take the streets and drive past the spots Haley might go. If she hadn’t been in town since last year, she might visit our old haunts. Maybe. I don’t want to think about the alternative. I haven’t been around her long enough to know how she’s been living. Has she been in denial this whole past year? Or living with the guilt every day? My biggest fear hovers over me, sending shivers down my back.

What if the combined efforts of her brother and me both making huge mistakes in judgment send her over the edge?

One thought taunts me. She drove. I doubt she’s barely set foot in a car this past year, never mind drive one. The urge to find her rises and it’s all I can think about. I need to see her and hold her whether she wants me to or not. I ran away last time without telling her the truth. This time, I’ll find her. I’ll tell her the whole truth so she can start living again.

Sirens wail in the distance and my heart rate spikes. I keep driving, scanning the roads. Maybe she stopped and decided to walk. Maybe she texted Justine to come pick her up. I pull over and call Justine on her phone.

“Hello,” she says.

“It’s Seth.” My voice is hoarse. I clear it and ask, “Is Haley there?”

“No. Is everything okay? Seth?”

I drop the phone on the front seat. Justine’s voice echoes but I don’t pick it up. I focus on the road and