“Calla?”

I somehow manage to move my head, to look up at the boy I love, the man I hate, the man I’m afraid of now. I don’t know why, I just know I do. All of these emotions swirl in me and I don’t know where they’re coming from and it doesn’t matter right now. Only one thing matters.

“Where’s Finn?” my lips move.

Dare stares at me, his dark eyes guarded and urgent.

“We’ve got to call an ambulance.”

I’m frozen, so Dare grabs my phone and punches at the numbers, crimson blood staining the keys.

His voice blends into the night as he speaks to the dispatcher, but one phrase penetrates the fog of my consciousness.

“There’s been an accident.”

I wait for him to finish, I wait as he calls my father, I wait until he hangs up and stares down at me before I finally speak.

“Was it?” I ask him, my voice shaking and frail and thin. “Was it an accident?”

He closes his eyes.

I close mine too.

Because I know it wasn’t.

I know my mother killed my brother.

And it wasn’t an accident.

Dare sees it in my eyes, he knows that I know, and I hear his phone drop to the porch, and I hear it shatter.

Just

Like

My

Heart.

Chapter Fifteen

The world is black

The world is punishing

The world is mine

The world is black

The world is punishing

The world is mine

It’s mine

It’s mine

It’s mine.

Forgive me, St. Michael

Protect me, St. Michael.

Forgive me forgive me forgive me.

The world is a dark dark tunnel.

It’s swirling and falling and crushing and

Forgive me, St. Michael.

I’ll do anything to save my brother.

Words from somewhere, words I’ve seen before, float into my head, in Finn’s scrawling writing.

Serva me, servabo te.

Save me, and I’ll save you.

Save me, Calla.

Save me.

Chapter Sixteen

“He’s gone, honey.”

I open my eyes and I’m staring at the wall, my phone in my hand. The darkness is gone, and I can see, and Dare’s arms are wrapped around my shoulder, holding me up. He’s not bloody now. His shirt is clean as new.

My dad stares at me, and he’s shocked, and how did he get here?

“Calla?”

I turn my face to look at him, but looking at him makes it feel too real, so I close my eyes instead.

I can’t do this.

“Calla, they found Finn’s car. It’s in the bay. He drove off the edge… your mom was in the ravine, but Finn’s car plunged the opposite way. Down the rocks, into the water.”

No, it didn’t.

He couldn’t have.

“No,” I say clearly, staring at my father dazed. “He was wearing his medallion. He was protected.”

My father, the strongest man I know, turns away and his shoulders shake. After minutes, he turns back.

“I want to see,” I tell him emptily. “If it’s true, I need to see.”

Because he’s died before in my dreams, and then he was alive. I never know never know never know when I’m crazy.

My father is already shaking his head, his hand on my arm. “No. Your mother is on her way to the hospital. We have to go. You can’t see Finn like this, sweetie. No.”

“Yes.”

I don’t wait for him to agree, I just bolt from the house, down the steps, down the paths, to the beach. I hear Dare behind me, but I don’t stop. There are firemen and police and police tape and EMTs congregated about, and one of them tries to stop me.

“Miss, no,” he says, his voice serious, his face aghast. “You can’t go over there.”

But I yank away because I see Finn.

I see his red smashed car that they’ve already pulled from the water.

I see someone laid out on the sand, someone covered by a sheet.

I walk toward that someone calmly, because even though it’s Finn’s car, it can’t be Finn. It can’t be because he’s my twin, and because I didn’t feel it happen. I would’ve known, wouldn’t I?

Dare calls to me, through thick fog, but I don’t answer.

I take a step.

Then another.

Then another.

Then I’m kneeling in the sand, next to a sheet.

My fingers shake.

My heart trembles.

And I pull the white fabric away.

He’s dressed in jeans and a button-up, clothing for a concert. He’s pale, he’s skinny, he’s long. He’s frail, he’s cold, he’s dead.

He’s Finn.

I can’t breathe as I hold his wet hand, as I hunch over him and cry and try to breathe and try to speak.

He doesn’t look like he was in a crash. There’s a bruise on his forehead and that’s it. He’s just so white, so very very white.

“Please,” I beg him. “No. Not today. No.”

I’m rocking and I feel hands on me, but I shake them away, because this is Finn. And we’re Calla and Finn. He’s part of me and I’m part of him and this can’t be happening.

I cry so hard that my chest hurts with it, my throat grows raw and I gulp to breathe.

“I love you,” I tell him when I can breathe again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I’m still crying when large hands cup my shoulders and lift me from the ground, and I’m pulled into strong arms.

“Shhh, Calla,” my dad murmurs. “It’ll be okay. He knew you loved him.”

“Did he?” I ask harshly, pulling away to look at my father. “Because he wanted me to go with him, and I made him go alone. And now he’s dead. I called mom and they’re both dead.”

Dad pulls me back into his arms and pats my back, showing a tenderness that I didn’t know he possessed. “It’s not your fault,” he tells me between wracking sobs. “He chose this. He knew you loved him, honey. Everyone knew.”

I choke back another gasping sob, because how could he have chosen this? My mother killed him on purpose. I feel it in my bones in my bones in my bones.

This can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening.

This isn’t my life.

I shake off my father’s arms and walk woodenly back up the trails, past the paramedics, past the police, past everyone who is staring at me. I walk straight up to Finn’s room and collapse onto his bed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his journal.

I pick it up, reading the familiar handwriting written by the hands that I love so much.

Serva me, servabo te.

Save me, and I will save you.

Ok.

Ok, Finn.

I close my eyes because when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll find that this was all a dream. This is a nightmare. It has to be.

Sleep comes quickly and when I wake up, I’ll save Finn.

Because really, he’s all that matters.

If he’s dead, I want to be dead.

He can’t be dead.

I’ll give anything for him.

I’d give my life.

“You could,” the hooded boy says, and he’s here on the edge of my bed. “You could give your life. You could jump, you could sacrifice yourself, and then it would all be over. Or… you could offer your mother instead.”

“What?” I ask stiffly.

“You heard me. You’ve heard me all along. You have the power to change it. You always have, and you always do. Change it to the way it should be. Do it.”

I’m appalled, I’m frozen, I’m filled with dread, because I would rather. I would rather give anything than my brother.

I fall asleep with the sheets wrapped like a rope around my hands, and I dream the dreams of the tormented.