"You okay?" Molly pulls back, studying my face.
"Yeah." Too high. Too tight. "I just—I need to go. I'm sorry—"
I stand abruptly, grabbing my jacket off the booth.
The dizziness from moments ago vanishes, replaced by a jittery energy that makes my hands tremble.
"Bree—"
"Thank you for coming." I can't meet her eyes. "Really. I'll call you soon, okay?"
I don't wait for an answer. Just grab my bag and push through the door into the night.
Outside, the air is warm and dry against my flushed skin. I unlock Dad's bike from the rack with shaking hands.
I should feel better after crying. Lighter. Less alone. Instead, I feel wrong. Overheated. Wired.
It's fine,I tell myself.It's just been too long. Just your body being stupid.
I swing my leg over the bike and start pedaling, trying to outrun the buzzing under my skin.
The streetlights blur past. The warm air rushes against my face. For a moment, I almost feel free.
Then—headlights.
Bright. Sudden. Wrong.
I don't even have time to swerve.
I wake up with my skull trying to split in half.
The light is too bright, stabbing straight through my eyelids. My mouth tastes like metal and cotton. Every inch of me aches—shoulders, hips, knees, ribs—as if I've been used as a human pinball.
I try to move and something tugs at my hand.
I blink my eyes open.
White ceiling.
White walls.
A plastic bag of clear fluid hanging from a pole.
A beeping sound, slow and steady.
I'm in a hospital.
"Bree?"
Mom's voice.
I turn my head too quickly and pain flares in my neck, making me groan.
She's there, slumped in the chair by my bed, face creased, hair a frizzy halo. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but she tries to smile. "Hey, sweetie. You're awake."
"What… happened?" I croak.
"You were in an accident." Her voice breaks on the last word. "Some kind soul found you on the side of the road, just a block from the house. You'd been thrown from your bike—"
