Page 47 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

"Harmony," I choked out. "Harmony, we have to go."

I crawled to her and shook her shoulders. Her eyelids fluttered open.

"Sissy," I whispered. "Please. We have to get out."

Her eyes found mine, glassy and unfocused. "Harper... run."

“No. Not without you.” I grabbed her arm and tried to pull her. “Come on. Please get up.”

She coughed weakly, blood on her lips. "I can't... I'm sorry. I tried to protect you."

"Don't say that." My voice cracked. "Please don't say that. Just get up."

Her hand found mine, weak and trembling. "I love you. So much."

Tears burned down my face. "I love you too. Please don't leave me."

Her fingers slipped from mine. Her eyes stayed open, staring at nothing.

"Harmony?" I shook her again. "Harmony, wake up. Please wake up!"

She didn't move.

I woke with a gasp, heart hammering against my ribs.

The room was dark and quiet. My tank was soaked with sweat and the blanket had twisted tight around my legs. For a second I didn’t know where I was. Then the familiar shape of my dresser, the crack in the ceiling, and the faint streetlight leaking through the blinds slowly came back into focus. I sat up and dragged a hand down my face. My throat felt raw, like I’d actually been screaming.

The smell of smoke still clung to the inside of my nose. Harmony’s voice still echoed in my ears. When I looked down at my hand, I could still feel hers slipping away from it.

I pressed both palms hard against my eyes until colors bloomed behind the lids. It didn’t help. The memory was still there, waiting.

The nightmare always came back the same way. Different details sometimes, but the ending never changed. Harmony’s eyes open. The fire. The helplessness. How right until the very end, she had tried to protect me.

I reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, drank what was left, and set it down again. The clock read 4:32 a.m.

Too early to get up. Too late to fall back asleep.

Lying there wasn't going to help.

Ten minutes later, I was outside in my workout clothes.

I moved through the forms in the backyard, slow at first, then faster. Punches. Kicks. Blocks. Elbows. The familiar rhythm grounded me. Each strike cut through the lingering smoke in my lungs, and each breath pushed the nightmare further back until it finally loosened its hold.

I stopped thinking about the rumor.

I stopped thinking about the fact that Thomas Black was still breathing.

By the time the sky began to lighten, my muscles burned and my mind was quiet again.

After showering, I stood at the mirror, towel wrapped around me, hair wet.

The bruises were healing too fast. The one under my eye had faded to yellow-green. The swelling along my jaw was nearly gone. The cut on my nose looked weeks old.

Cassidy had seen the bruises yesterday. She wasn't stupid. If I showed up looking mostly fine, she’d ask questions I couldn’t answer.

I reached for the full-coverage concealer and worked it in heavier than usual, layering until it would hold through practice. When I leaned back to check, it looked right—a bruise that had been concealed, not one that had already healed.

I changed quickly and headed to school.