You know that sensation you get when you're sleeping, and you feel like you're falling? Usually you wake up before you hit whatever ground you're spiraling down into, like a stream of lightning rips through you and you're jolted awake by sheer force.

That was my constant cycle since moving back to Finnick Island. Every night it was the same.

Sleep, dream, fall, wake up. Sleep, dream, fall, wake up. Sleep, dream, fall, wake up.

By the end of every single dream, I was always falling into some dark, endless abyss until I bolted awake to midnight sun creeping through my blinds and sweat running in little rivers down my cheeks. Tonight had been no different. Bits of light trickled across my dusty wooden floor, staining the piles of clothes that had accumulated in my laziness in bloody orange sun rays.

I still hadn't gotten readjusted to seeing sunlight at 1 AM, which made falling back asleep even harder. I pulled my tatty grey comforter up over my head and squeezed my eyes shut. Even in the darkness, Leah's blue eyes were little pools of light that pulled me closer and closer in until I felt like I was falling again. Tumbling down harder and faster into nothing until my eyes snapped open again and my body shook with adrenaline.

I groaned in frustration as I kicked the covers off my bed. I fumbled around for the first hoodie and pair of leggings I could find before hastily throwing them on. On my way out, I grabbed a pair of sunglasses sitting on my desk before making my way down the stairs, careful to avoid all the spots that creaked. A blast of light greeted me as I opened the front door, followed by a frigid breeze that tore through the thin fabric of my hoodie. I didn't exactly know where I was going, but anywhere was better than my room, where my dead best friend thought it was funny to haunt my dreams.

Despite being an island, the only "beach" in town was a small sliver of dark sand next to a rickety old dock where the fishing shop sits. The ocean washed up an amalgamation of things - from plastic bags and styrofoam cups to broken conch shells and orca teeth. I picked up a rock and ran my fingers over its surface, all faded and smooth from the ocean wearing it down. I flicked it into the water expecting it to skip, but instead it skimmed the top of a wave and sunk with a sad plop. I picked up another rock and threw it again, this time harder, pouring my exhaustion and  frustration into it. It plopped again, this time just a little louder. I groaned and picked up one more rock, but before I could throw it, I saw a shadow cast against the sand.

"You know, for someone who claims to have changed, you still can't skip rocks for shit," a voice grumbled behind me.

I whipped around to see Grey standing where the dock met the cracked concrete of the sidewalk, in his usual baseball cap and jean jacket. He clutched a case of beer under his arm.

It was almost like Leah was giving me a sign, constantly putting her brother in front of me even though I couldn't stand the sight of him. Typical Leah, always trying to stir the pot.

"Can we talk?" I asked, ignoring his jab.

"Oh, now you want to be my friend?" He gave me an eye roll.

"Well, you have beer, so..." I shrugged and pointed at the case.

He sighed and walked down to the beach, dropping the case between us and handing me a can. I watched him chug down almost half the can and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand before realizing I was staring. His eyes swept over me, and despite the iciness of his gaze a blast of heat tore through me. I looked down with flushed cheeks and kicked around sand with my shoe.

"Look, about the other day at the shop...I'm sorry." I felt little crackles in my voice, like I was dragging my words over gravel. "I shouldn't have been so nasty to you. I know you were only trying to help. Which...I still don't really understand, because you were right - you should probably hate me." I turned the stone over in my hand a few times before continuing. "I keep seeing her in my dreams."

"And you think getting closure with me is going to miraculously make that go away?" he asked with a dry chuckle. Just like before, he saw through me like glass.

"Maybe," I shrugged and threw the rock into the water. "I don't know. It's stupid, I guess."

Grey pressed his lips together and furrowed his brows, like he was deep in thought. He kept his gaze towards the ocean.

"I see her too," he said softly. "All the time. I can't fucking sleep."

It felt like a lifetime of silence between us. Even the water was calm, and the sloshing of the waves against the tiny strip of shoreline had hushed to a whisper.

"Can I ask you something?" I put my head down, focusing on drawing little circles in the dark, wet sand with the toe of my sneaker.

"Well, you're going to ask even if I say no so..." Grey shrugged and popped open another beer. "Go ahead."

"Why did you come back?" I asked, still refusing to make eye contact.

Grey let out a heavy sigh. He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his mess of hair. "Kenny I never left."

"What do you mean?" I snapped.

"I mean exactly what I just said." His tone reverted back to its usual coldness. "I never left Finnick Island."

"What? What about school? You were going to Stanford for crying out loud!" I blurted out.

"Fuck Stanford," he hissed. "Fuck California, fuck everything that's not here. I couldn't leave. I won't leave."

His words felt like knives in my chest, and I knew he was sharpening them just for me. I didn't response. I was afraid he'd hear the cracking in my voice.

Grey sighed and rubbed his face. "I got an associates at the community college in Anchorage. I just couldn't leave my parents," his voice went soft again.

I hadn't even thought about Mr. and Mrs. Fischer. How empty their house was without Leah parading around with her loud music and her loud voice. How gut wrenching it is to visit a grave with their daughter's name on it.

"How have they been? Your mom and dad, I mean," I asked, swallowing the knot in my throat.

"Well, they're gone," he said sharply. "They moved to New Mexico about two years ago. They couldn't handle being here anymore. The house, the car shop, it's all just me now."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"Because everybody leaves, Kennedy." He snapped, so pointedly directed at me. "Someone has to stay."

I knew what he meant. Someone has to stay...to go to Leah's grave. To put orchids on it in the summer, and clean the snow off of it in the winter. Someone has to stay so she doesn't just become a faded headstone in a tiny cemetery, where it would start to chip away and erode like whatever memories we had of her.

I thought about Leah's eyes in my dreams, the same icy blue as Grey's, and the memory of how his pooled with tears when the police came to the Fischer's house that night flooded me. Every time I saw Grey my heart cracked, but it took me until that moment to realize his heart had already been broken a long time ago.

"I'm sorry Grey." I managed to squeak out.

"For what?" he scoffed.

"Everything, I guess." I swallowed hard. "I just don't know how to handle all this. Being back, seeing everything, it's...difficult."

"Well, you just get used to it," he replied coldly. "I have."