LIAM
The morning sun broke through the curtains, but it brought no warmth. I must've passed out sometime around dawn after dragging myself back home, my jacket still covered in the smell of grass and midnight regret. The dream I woke from was foggy — I saw her, barefoot in the field, laughing as the stars fell behind her. For a moment, I smiled.
Then I heard my phone vibrate.
Once.
Twice.
Then it wouldn't stop.
Groaning, I reached for it, squinting at the screen. Ten missed calls. A dozen messages. Notifications flooded in, from group chats and even people I barely talked to at school.
"Please tell me this isn't true…"
"Omg… was it her bike??"
"Are you okay, Liam??"
And then one from Nick.
Just one.
You better pray it wasn't her.My heart dropped.
I sat up, adrenaline flooding my veins.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no…"
I searched for the local news link someone had sent in one of the messages. My fingers trembled so badly I could barely click the article. My lungs forgot how to breathe.
"Early Morning Motorcycle Crash Claims Life of Teen Girl…"
"…rider died on impact…"
"…bike found mangled along the ridge highway…"
"…identity withheld until family is notified…"
There it was.
A picture of the crash scene. Paramedics in the background. A sheet pulled over a small figure. And then the motorcycle.
Her motorcycle.
Zara's.
The same matte black body with the custom white stripe down the center. The handlebars wrapped in leather cords — she had once proudly told me she did it herself because she liked the grip better that way.
"No…"
My chest caved in.
My phone fell from my hand, clattering to the floor, but the image was already seared into my brain. I staggered to my feet, barely making it to the edge of my bed before my knees gave out.
A sob escaped before I could stop it. Then another.
I buried my face in my hands, gripping my hair, trying to wake myself up. This had to be a nightmare. One of those cruel, twisted dreams where you can still fix things when you open your eyes.
But I was already awake.
And she was gone.
The bracelet — hers — still sat on my desk. The one she'd given back. The one I stupidly thought I could return to her, maybe when I found the courage to be honest. It shimmered in the sunlight, mocking me.
I couldn't breathe.
The guilt, the grief — it was suffocating. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to scream at me, curse my name, ignore me in hallways for years if that's what it took… but not this.
Not death.
"Zara…" I choked out, whispering her name like a prayer. Like if I said it enough, maybe she'd walk through the door and tell me it was all some stupid prank. Maybe she'd laugh, call me an idiot.
But all I heard was silence.
Silence, and the sound of my world falling apart.
*********
I don't remember grabbing my keys.
I don't remember the drive.
I just remember speeding like hell, every red light a blur, my breath shallow, my thoughts louder than the wind cutting through my windows.
The road to the ridge stretched endlessly. I'd been there before — it was the same route Zara and I took the night I showed her the stars. That night she clutched my hand like she'd never let go. I should've clutched hers harder.
I saw the yellow tape first, then the flashing lights from the earlier responders who were now slowly clearing the area. Her bike was already gone. But the scorch marks on the road remained. The smell of burnt rubber still hung in the air.
And then I saw them.
Nick.
Kaylee.
They were standing by the edge, near a bouquet of hastily laid flowers. Kaylee's shoulders were shaking, her mascara smudged, but her hand was holding onto Nick's arm — the only thing keeping him grounded, it seemed.
I parked like a maniac and jumped out.
"Nick!" I called, my voice already hoarse. "Nick, tell me it's not her. Please. Tell me it wasn't Zara—"
He turned. And his eyes…
They were full of rage. And grief. And fury that had nowhere to go but straight through me.
"You have some goddamn nerve showing your face here," he growled, fists already clenched.
"I didn't know she'd— Nick, please," I said, stepping forward, heart hammering. "I didn't think she'd do this—"
"You didn't think? You knew she was hurting. And you still kissed Beatrice in front of her. You planned to humiliate her."
Kaylee tried to grab his arm. "Nick—"
But it was too late.
His fist landed in my gut so hard I folded over, gasping. Another slammed into my jaw. My vision blurred.
I didn't fight back. I didn't even raise my hands.
I deserved this.
Each blow was a reminder of what I'd done. Each hit screamed this is because of you. The pain felt righteous. Just. Needed.
"She trusted you," Nick snarled, grabbing my collar and slamming me against the hood of my car. "She trusted you. We warned her—"
Kaylee's voice broke through the fog. "Nick! Stop! He's not worth it!"
She was crying now, tugging at his arm, her voice high and panicked. "We're supposed to go to the hospital! They said your mom was asking for us!"
Nick's fists paused in mid-air. His shoulders heaved. Then he dropped me with a shove.
"Don't think this makes us even," he hissed, backing away.
I crumpled onto the gravel, my side aching, lip bleeding. I didn't care.
"She's— She's not dead?" I rasped, barely able to breathe.
Kaylee turned to me, her voice trembling. "They said… they think it might be her. But her face was bruised, there's swelling. They're waiting for dental confirmation. Her dad and Nick's were called in to ID her but—there's still a chance."
Hope flickered. A small, painful, desperate thing.
Nick was already walking to his car, fists still clenched. Kaylee looked at me one last time.
"Get yourself together," she said softly. "If she's alive… she's going to need people who actually care. Not people who only feel sorry once the damage is done."
Then they were gone.
And I was left sitting on the side of the road, broken knuckles throbbing against my chest, grief swimming in my bloodstream, and a sliver of hope slicing its way through the wreckage