“Holly, it’s true. You described the entire night exactly how it happened. It was me. Look at me. Think back.”

The blue eyes…the shaggy blond hair.

“No…” I don’t want it to be him, I don’t want the horrible screams I heard to belong to him, the man who’s become my best friend, taken care of my dog, and given me special blankets and a dreamcatcher.

The man I love.

“I could have saved you. I was drunk, and I forgot you afterward. I never told anyone. Maybe if I had…” He gulps and coughs, and I close my eyes, hating his pain and struggle. “I could have described him to the police. I looked right at him. They could have drawn one of those pictures. He was a teacher. Someone would have recognized the photo in this small town. I fucked up, Holly.”

My heart is breaking inside, cracking and shattering, its tiny pieces coursing through my veins. “That’s not how I see it,” I say tearfully. “Not at all.”

He turns his face toward mine. “Really? How the hell do you see it?”

“If I hadn’t grabbed you, he never would have pushed you. You never would have gotten burnt, you never would have—”

His lips come down hard on mine, silencing me as I ramp up into hysterics.

“Shh…” he whispers. “Are you fucking crazy? You were just a little girl looking for help. You didn’t do anything wrong at all.”

He’s wrong. So wrong. “I’m so sorry, Tyler.” I cry. “I ruined your whole life…”

“No,” he says vehemently. “He ruined our lives. Him.”

I pull away from him and stand, feeling trapped and panicked. I think I need my pills. “Maybe I should go…” I say, looking around for my backpack. “Where is my backpack?”

He jumps up from the chair. “You’re not leaving like this.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and forces me to look at him. “I’m all fucked up, Holly. But I’m not letting you run out of here when you’re this upset. You’re staying here with me.”

One…two…three…four…

I swipe my hand across my wet nose. “I’m all fucked up, too. Where the hell is my backpack?”

“You’re not leaving. And I don’t think you brought it today. Stop looking for it.”

I run my hands through my hair. How could I leave the house without my backpack and books? Is that why all this bad stuff is happening? “I feel sick.” I try to pull away from him, but he holds onto me.

“You’re okay,” he says softly. “I think you’re just having an anxiety attack.”

My heart races rapidly as I stare back into his eyes. “I’m so glad you killed him, Tyler,” I whisper. “I know I shouldn’t say that…but I hate him so much…even more now than I ever did. I hate him! I hate him!” I scream.

He pulls me into a hug and holds me tight, hushing me.

I hate the bad man. I hate myself. I hate my parents. I’ve never felt so much sheer anger in my life. I feel like it’s ripping me apart from the inside out. “I’m scared. I don’t want this to be true.”

“I know. Neither do I.”

We hold onto each other in the dim room, the shroud of reality enveloping us. We can’t escape this. No matter what, this is us. We’re tied together by this awful course of events, unknowingly walking the same path.

What’s next? Where do we go from here?

I look up at him, searching his eyes, but all I can see is the hue of the purple and blue bruising around his eye and cheek and blood trickling from his nose. All evidence of his need to self-punish because of me.

“We just need some time,” he says a little too hopefully. “To let it sink in. It’s all fucked up.”

Time. Everything in life comes down to time.

His blue eyes lock onto mine, endless pools of blue sucking me in. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“I did too,” I whisper.

Nothing could ever change that.

“Then that’s what we have to focus on, right?”

I want to believe him…but his entire life has been built around focusing on the bad things that’s happened to him. It’s why he hides out here, ostracizing himself from his friends and family. How is he going to move past that awful night, now that we both know what happened? How will I?

I wait on the couch while he showers and admit to myself that I’m going to need to talk to Dr. Reynolds first thing next week to discuss all this. I’ve always felt regret over the boy being pushed into the fire, but now that I know it was Tyler, it adds a whole new level of insurmountable guilt. I’ll probably be in therapy for the rest of my life trying to come to terms with this, but no matter what, I won’t let it come between us.