air, wiping the blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. Th

the bed, unable to move her head. She saw Brittany's shoes-red soles-plant themselves inc

el it. Her nerves

ice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You think a slap change

for a reaction Che

ft. You remember the car crash? The one that kill

e, fluttering skip. Her eyes

cut the brake line. I was sixteen, Chelsea.

rld st

d her stories. The crash that had turned her mother

s Bri

n the death creeping into her limbs. A single tear, hot and bloody, leak

the recording from the dashcam before the

satisfied. "Go t

lked to the door.

a was

second chance. Not like this. Please, God, not like this.

to black. It was a violent shuttering.

en...

ld. It started as a whine and grew into a

s plummeting, wind rushing past her ear

ga

ch air, too fast. She sat bo

ying to her throat, expecting to

. Her skin was cool.

t hammering a frantic rhythm agains

sn't th

ht-streamed through sheer lace curtains. There were posters on the wall. A framed p

She looked

ree-year-old addict. They were smooth. The skin was taut

ong. They didn't buckle. She ran to the ful

toppe

ading over her shoulders. Her face was full of collagen, her eyes bright

her cheek.

eek laptop hummed in the corner. N

ber 15

onto the plush carpet. 2024. Her

is ready! Don't ma

rs. It was warm, slightly exa

o

rl

r memories had died a

ot and fast. She slapped her

n't a

in 2030, the eidetic memory exercises she mastered to memorize scripts, the years o

her hand. The confusion in her eyes

lection again. The in

, Mom," she

ar again. November 8th. The d

room, her voice low and dangerous,