"I'm sorry." Darren squeezes his eyes shut. The gun rattles against his jaw bone, making my blood run cold.

"Hey, hey," Carter holds his hands out as he creeps towards him, "What did we talk about, huh? This isn't your only option, Darren. Let's put that away again and—"

"You knew?" I ask incredulously. "This whole time you knew he had a gun and didn't think to give your very impulsive wife a heads up?"

"When he first came in, he had it out." Carter keeps his steps steady, even as his voice waivers. "When you came in, he'd just put it away. I was afraid having you here would rile him up again, and I didn't want to redirect his attention back to the gun."

"I'm sorry," Darren repeats, but he's looking at me now, his eyes glossy. "For lying the day you came. Should've confessed then." He grips the gun harder, his knuckles turning white. "Should've confessed years ago."

"D-Darren." I say it just to stop him. Sure, I was close to ringing his neck a second ago, but that doesn't mean I wanna watch him blow his brains out. "This isn't making any sense. You've been living with this just fine since your party. Why do this now?"

It's the best I can muster up. Beneath all the fear, I'm livid, the power behind it so strong it makes me shake. Contrary to what Carter told him, this is Darren's fault, and no amount of tears can change that.

Talk him off the ledge now — kick his ass later.

"Living," Darren spits, his face contorting in pain. "What's that anymore? Smile through it all, that's what he used to say. Never let them see you sweat, even when the tremors set in after hours without it. Day, night... whenever I can get it. Always there, always in control. I'm not living— heroin is. I've been dead for years."

"No." My anger melts away any initial sympathy. "Mark has been dead for years. He's the one who paid the price for a drug ring you ran for fun, while you've sat here and wasted your life away on the drug that killed him!"

"Is this supposed to be helping?" Carter asks heatedly. "Because I promise you, it isn't."

"I don't care," I snap back. "I don't care that you're sad, Darren, or that you finally feel guilty about something you're responsible for, or even that you're an addict. My best friend is dead." I dig my nails into my palms to stop from crying. "He was sad. He was abused, and to top it off, he died because of someone who hated him. And now, you wanna take the easy way out? Fuck that. You're gonna spend the rest of your life living with this guilt, and when I'm through with you, you'll do it behind bars. Now, put down that gun."

Everything goes still. Carter stays where he is, waiting to see what Darren's gonna do. I hold my breath, both to keep my composure and to stop from pushing him too far. Not that I've had a change of heart, but I meant what I said. Darren's not killing himself over this — he's gonna rot in it.

His face crumples in on itself. The gun slips from under his chin and lands back in his lap, but his finger doesn't move from the trigger. From the corner of my eye, I watch Carter lower his hands.

"Ok," he starts, "let's just... take a minute. We're all upset here, and for good reason, but none of us wanna do something we're gonna regret."

"Regret." Darren's words are slurring worse by the second. "You don't know regret."

"That's not true, Darren. We all have regrets," Carter insists, his eyes darting over to me. He lowers himself back in his chair, then signals for me to sit with him. I subtly shake my head no. I don't want to be any closer to Darren than necessary.

Darren scoffs. "Regrets of death? Of killing the one person..." he tapers off, his look getting lost somewhere else entirely, "the one person you ever wanted to help? Walking him right into it, standing by as it happened. I regret it all. How do you live with killing a kid whose bitch mom was doing it already?"

My jaw goes slack. Glancing over at Carter, I find him just as shocked. Clearly it's not something he shared with Darren, or something Darren's mentioned before now.

"His- Mark told you about his mom?" The notion sounds insane.

Darren's head lulls again, his eyes going out of focus. "Didn't have to. Us abused kids all have a look. Can't miss it when you know."

Carter reaches behind himself, but doesn't look away from the gun. "Amber, we need to call an ambulance," he mutters from the corner of his mouth. "Please tell me you still have your phone."

For once, I know it's in the back pocket of my jeans, but I don't move to make the call. "What do you mean us, Darren?"

"You're wrong," he grumbles, disregarding my question. "Mark dying because of hate. Never hated him. Never, ever. I was him. I was him."

There's a brokenness in his tone that finally drives it home. The fury starts to clear away, and I can see what I didn't before. From the beginning, the theory that Darren was behind all this felt like it was missing something: motive. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't find the link between them. Over time, I convinced myself that Mark could've been anyone. Wrong place, wrong time.

But now, looking at the effect this one night had on Darren's life, I know. His regrets about his party aren't from a drug deal gone wrong; they're much deeper than that. He's not sorry because he killed someone — he's sorry because it was Mark.

"Darren," I say sharply when his eyes flutter closed. Suddenly, I want him to survive for more than one reason. "Wake the hell up. You don't get to die because of this, remember? You have to survive, not for yourself, but for Mark. You owe it to him to live a full life... one he never got a chance at."

Carter's still searching for his phone, so I clear my throat to get his attention. As quickly as I can, I wrench mine from my pocket and toss it, hoping that Darren won't see. No such luck. Seconds after it leaves my hand, his eyes fly open in time to watch Carter catch it.

Faster than I'm expecting, Darren stumbles to his feet, lifting the gun up to his own temple.

"Darren, we're only trying to get you help," Carter insists, holding the phone out where he can see it. He's up again too, but I'm acutely aware of how much taller Darren is. He has at least five inches on Carter, but everything in Carter's stance tells me that won't make him back down if necessary.

"No," he chokes out, snot bubbling from his nose. "It doesn't work. The charities, the law firm, the Academy," he spits the last word out like it's venom, "none of it ever helped. Living for heroin isn't enough, trying to forget doesn't work, I'm beyond forgiveness, so what's left? The wrong person died that night. This is how I make it right."

"This won't make things right!" I shout. "This doesn't change anything. Mark will still be dead. This won't bring him back. You have to accept the fact that you can't—" the thought hits me so hard it knocks the wind out of me, "save him."

Darren's face blurs as my tears well up again. Blinking them down my cheeks, I take in a ragged breath, because this has to be it. The amnesia, kicking in the night before the most traumatic day of my life, was a coping mechanism, nothing more. Everything tracing back to the Wexlers, leading me right to Darren — he's why I'm here. My biggest fear is coming true. This was never about Mark.

It was always about Darren.

"We can't change what happened," I croak. "No matter how much we want to, we can't. He's gone, and killing yourself won't bring him back. Nothing will."

I notice Carter's shoulders tense up as he catches my underlying meaning, but I pray he keeps moving towards Darren. He hasn't noticed Carter's approaching him again, and the gun gets looser in his hands the longer I talk.

"But I think I can save you. I think it's what I'm meant to do, in a weird, cosmic sort of way." Before my eyes, his face morphs into a one I hoped to see again. Just like Darren said, he is Mark; for this one moment, I need him to be so I can get through it.

"No," Darren insists, but there's less manic energy behind it. His eyes are glossing over again, but they still don't pick up on Carter. "Don't deserve it."

"Everyone deserves forgiveness," I said it to Dad this morning, and I still mean it now, "and I forgive you. For the lies. The pain. For what happened to him. I'm forgiving you for all of it."

The secrets about his mom, about Carter, about his life; every word is directed at Mark, even if he can't hear them. Deep down, I like to believe he can. More impossible things have happened.

"But now, you have to forgive yourself. It's the only way this gets better."

"I can't," he whispers.

"You can." Carter's only a few steps away, making my heart hammer in my chest. "We'll do it together."

"Together." His lips quirk up, the anguish fading from his face. With trembling hands, Darren starts to lower the gun—

"Mama!"

It's like ice pouring down my back.

I spin too fast, giving myself instant whiplash. Through it, I find Brynn halfway down the steps, scooting on her butt so she doesn't fall. Her face brightens once she has my attention, oblivious to the hell she's just distracted me from.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find Darren staring straight at her, eyes wide. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking, but he doesn't put down the gun. Carter takes advantage of the moment, lunging to close the space between them, but Darren's too fast. He tightens his grip just as Carter grabs the handle, jerking wildly so he'll let go.

"Carter, stop!" I cry, terror clawing its way up my throat.

"Amber, grab her!" he yells over the struggle. I start to rush to his side, but he shouts even louder, "Get the baby now!"

"Let go, let go, let go," Darren screams, the sound like teeth against a chalkboard. He's pulling too hard. Carter can't hold him off.

"I can't leave you!" But Brynn's on the bottom step now, already wobbling her way over to me.

"Go!" Carter screams. He's petrified, but not for himself; I'm only getting in the way.

Holding his hazel eyes a second longer, I sprint to the staircase and scoop Brynn up in my arms. I clamber up the steps, the sound of them fighting following me all the way to the second floor. Panicking, I throw open the first door I find and shut Brynn inside, tuning out her cries of protest. Turning on a dime, I shoot back down the hall, my mind on only one thing. I have to get back to them. I never should've left him—

Crack!

I stutter to a stop and clutch my chest like I'm the one that's been shot. The room sways as I register the sound of the gun, followed by the thud of a body hitting the hardwood floor. I'm stuck on the top step for what feels like forever, too terrified to look.

But one at a time, I finally take them, gripping the bannister like a lifeline. A chilling silence falls over the house, cut only by Brynn's howls and the creak of my footsteps. Dread crawls up my spine the longer I don't hear his voice. Each step takes me closer to the sitting room doorway, and when I'm near the bottom, I see a hand splayed out across the threshold — wearing a silver wedding band.

"Car-" hot bile pools in the back of my throat, "Carter?"

Stumbling down the last few steps, my vision tunnels at the sight of red. A crimson halo blooms from under his blonde waves, staining the tips until they're dark. Blood trickles down from the hole in his forehead, flowing directly between his beautiful eyes. For the first time, the gold in them is dull. Muted.

Lifeless.

"Carter!" His name splits my throat in two, ripping the vocal cords until there's nothing left. I try to sprint, crawl, drag myself over to him, but my feet are sinking through the floor. I slap a hand over my mouth to hold back my sobs, digging my fingernails deep into my cheek, desperate to wake myself up. It's a nightmare, a vision — anything but real.

Darren stands over him, deadly still. He looks less alive than Carter, his face so hollow I can practically see his skull. Instead of acknowledging the body at his feet, he looks at me through eyes that are empty... lifeless.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, but the world is closing in. Something's dragging me into unconsciousness, tugging at me until I'm the one falling. Down, down, down.

Just before everything blurs out of focus, I watch Darren lift the gun and stick it in his mouth.

Then, I hit the ground with a loud crack!

Then — there's light.

I'm standing on empty air, the world extending down and out with no end in sight. Breathing hard, the scent of fresh pine and dirt fills my senses, but there's nothing around but the pale pink clouds. It feels like I've been here before, but I don't give a shit about that now. There's only one thing that matters.

"Carter!" I shout into the abyss. Without thinking, I run with legs made of Jell-O, wobbling faster and faster without a clue where I'm going. No matter how hard I push myself, it feels like I'm getting nowhere. My surroundings remain unchanged. I try to fight it, sprinting until I can't feel my lungs, but the cold hard truth finally sets in. He's not here. Carter's gone.

I'm alone.

Everything gives out, sending me to my knees and into hysterics. Gut wrenching sobs wrack my body, followed by dry heaves at the memory of his face. I squeeze my eyes shut against the sight of his blood, still so vivid in my mind that I can't imagine ever forgetting it.

Inhaling sharply, I hug myself to fight off hyperventilation. Already my head is going foggy again, the lack of oxygen dizzying. Every part of me is praying that I'll wake up any minute now, still in my bed, wrapped safely in his arms.

He'll kiss me softly, running his fingers through my hair. Pulling me close until his heart beats against mine, he'll ask if I was having a bad dream. Staring up into his eyes, so full of life, I'll say yes. Just a dream. I'm ok as long as you're here.

My heart lodges its way into my throat, cutting off my airways and leaving me gasping. I'm going to pass out again, and I welcome it willingly. Anything to forget my whole world has ended in a matter of seconds.

Just as I feel myself slipping away, comforting arms pull me in close. Gasping at the contact, my head whips up in the hopes that it's Carter. I'll even take an "I told you so" if it means hearing his voice.

Instead, the face staring back at me is the last one I'm expecting.

"Mark?"

"Glad to see you still remember me," he says lightly. "I know it's been awhile."

He's really here, goofy smile and all. Unlike his last visit to my visions, he seems coherent. The shine in his blue eyes is vibrant, so striking they're practically luminescent. Light radiates from every inch of him, seeping out of his pores and bathing him in an angelic glow. If he weren't touching me, I'd think he was an illusion.

I throw my arms around his neck, uncaring of how or why he's here. I just bury my face against his shoulder, losing my composure all over again. He holds me while I cry, rocking us as despair claws at my insides. It's so painful I can barely concentrate on anything else, including what Mark whispers over and over in my ear.

"You did good, Amber," he murmurs soothingly, "So, so good."

"How can you say that?" I ask sharply. "I didn't do anything. You're still gone, Darren got his way, and Carter—" My mouth snaps shut as my head swirls again, the vertigo intense even on my knees. I can't say it, not yet. Who knows if I ever will.

"Lean back," Mark instructs, guiding me until I'm propped up against something solid. Startled, I check our surroundings again, but I'm no longer lost in the abyss. Instead, I'm met with a copse of full trees, surrounding a clearing I'd know anywhere.

"How did we get here?" I run a finger along the log behind me, tracing the grooves in the ancient wood.

Once he's sure I'm settled, Mark flips over and sits next to me. "Not sure. I'd guess this was your doing, considering it's your head and all."

There's still a pink haze that hangs over everything, swirling with each breeze that rustles the leaves above us. Searching beyond them, I find a sky filled with millions of stars, a trickle of light cascading from each one. It's impossible to tell if it's day or night, suspending us somewhere in the middle.

"My head...so I'm just asleep?" When he doesn't answer, I huff loudly. "Why am I even asking you? Not like you know more than me."

I feel him shrug against me. "True. Doesn't mean you can't ask me things. I've heard talking to yourself can be very helpful"

We both stare up at the stars as I contemplate that, only letting my mind wander to Carter once. Whatever this is, it's a moment stuck in time. Hard as it is, I suppress any thoughts of him so I don't have to grieve just yet. I'm not ready to start the process — it will undoubtedly be a long one.

"Why did you lie to me?" I ask softly, not letting my eyes leave the sky.

"Why do you think I lied?" he counters.

Sighing, I rest my head against his shoulder. "Where were you the day you died?"

"Where do you think I was?"

"Do I bother asking if I was ever meant to save you?"

"Depends," he gives me another shrug, "Do you think you were meant to?"

"Clearly, someone lied to you," I scoff. "This isn't helpful at all."

Mark chuckles softly, sending me into another fit of tears. Even if it's only in my head, it's so good to hear his laugh again. Pulling an arm around my shoulders, he tucks me under his chin, then waits until I'm calm again before responding.

"That's because you're asking questions you already know the answers to. You don't need me to answer them."

"Well it'd be a hell of a lot easier if you did," I snap. Despite my best efforts, I'm losing my patience, but he doesn't take it personally.

Holding me a little tighter, he simply says, "Now what would you learn from that?"

His answers are infuriating, but I get the feeling screaming at him won't change them. Instead, I subdue my anger and store it away for later, because there has to be a reason he's here. Like Callie said, the visions have never been random before, and I refuse to believe this one's the only exception.

"What can you tell me? If anything."

I glance over and find his head tilted towards the stars, their reflection dancing in his eyes. He stares at them, unblinking, almost like he's searching for something.

"I can tell you that's the Little Dipper." He lifts his finger to trace out the constellation in the air. "And that's Orion's Belt. In fact, I think I could name every star formation up there if you asked me. I know you could, too."

Suddenly, they're too painful to look at. I drop my gaze down to my hands. "Don't."

"He taught them all to us, remember? Spent hours just pointing them out," Mark goes on. "Carter always was happiest when he talked about things he loved."

"Stop it." But it's too late. Images of the three of us flood my mind, spread out on our backs in Carter's backyard. He'd guide us through the night sky, telling stories about the stars, his eyes burning brighter than any of them. Then, memories of just the two of us, him and I only inches apart. I spent countless nights sneaking out my window, just to lay beside him and watch him map out the heavens for me. On one night in particular, we mapped out our lives beneath them.

"Don't fight it, Amber," Mark insists, taking my hands. "Let yourself remember."

"Why?" I shake my head against the memories, split between then and now. Pictures of him as a kid, in high school, as the man I married, each a sharp dagger plunging deeper than the last. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because he's why I'm here. To make sure you don't forget him."

"Forget him?" I pull back so I can look at Mark head on. "Why would I ever—"

Something tickles my ears, a faint sound I can barely make out. Growing louder, it's more like a call, the same word repeated over and over. It isn't until Mark's look draws my attention to the trees that I realize where it's coming from — and what it's saying.

"Amber!" My name sounds distorted as it rings across the clearing, but I'd recognize his voice out of thousands.

"Carter!" I scream, stumbling back to my feet. "Where are you?"

"Don't forget about him," Mark says behind me. When I turn back, he's on his feet and the log is nowhere to be found. The clearing is starting to dissipate, blurring back into the pink abyss. "Don't forget."

"Amber!" Carter's calling from somewhere in the opposite direction. Reality tries to dig its way back in, reminding me that it's not actually him, but it's drowned out by the sound of my name on his lips.

"Go." Mark's barely visible now, his body translucent. Just before he dissolves completely, he whispers on a breeze, "Get your answers."

Not wasting another moment, I take off. Everything blends together again, leaving me dependent on Carter's voice. I careen blindly, holding out for the moment I'll see him. It's what keeps me going, faster and faster. Further and further...

"Amber!"

In the blink of an eye, he appears out of thin air. There's no hole in his head, no blood soaking his hair. He's standing there, alive, waiting for me.

"He's real," I tell myself, running flat out now. "He is."

I'm close enough to see every detail of his face, a much younger version than the one I've gotten used to. Instead of a man, he's the boy who drove me home from school. The one I kissed all those years ago at the log.

"Carter!" Only steps away, I push off the ground to jump into his arms, desperate to feel him one more time.

But instead of solid ground, my foot falls through space, sending me spiraling into nothingness.

A high pitch whistling fills my ears as I plummet, drowning everything out. I search above me for any sign of him, but the dark is fading in again, dousing any signs of light. Each star flickers out, one by one.

With nothing else left to do, I give in. As the darkness swallows me whole, I let myself fall.

Down.

Down.

Down...