ana

my to collect my final records. It was a formality

, suspended in the lu

ere we'd once hidden during a sudden downpour y

ng pictures

irected her, his voice patient,

ing my phone away whenever I tried to capture a m

years ago, our futures stretching out before us like an

he grass, and walked toward the edge of the camp

ere, its branches heavy w

lopsided heart with 'J.

kids who thought they

The metal felt cold against my palm. I pressed t

my own initial was nothing but a jagged, ugly

you doing

ard their footsteps approaching, the

ngly sweet. "Jax, look. We

en, the rhythmic sound of metal cutting into wood. He was overwritin

t landed in the dir

oice laced with triumph. She bent down and picked up the ke

primal, white-hot rage I didn

ward and sho

nd shot out and grabbed my wrist, her nails digg

h the surface of

ungs. My clothes became a lead weight, dragging me down into the murky

on the bank. He

ul strokes cutting through the sur

econd, a flicker of ho

swam p

y to reach Catalina, who was staging a theatr

is arms, holding her

e shore started forw

the cold air. It wasn't dir

s no longer