11.

THE THING WITH DEPRESSION is that it's not always like it is in the movies. It's not crying in the rain. It's not watching sad movies. It's not being the pretty girl with a frown that walks around with a mysterious air about her – hiding a tragic secret from the world.

No.

It's feeling empty. It's going through your days like you're watching yourself from the outside, getting the bare minimum done. It's knowing you're a disappointment to your parents. Knowing you're a burden.

It's lying in bed for a week without showering until your hair is matted and your skin is grimy, but still not caring enough to fix it, because it was already October, and the anniversary was coming up soon.

It's still going to your volunteer job because you're scared your mother will lock you up in a psych ward again, but drifting through it, using muscle memory to run the class, forcing a smile onto your face so no one worries.

Except now, Jace was here, and he knew.

He watched me as I lead the class through our cool down, the water swishing across the heated pool as they copied my movements. And it was those damned brown eyes on me that told me – he knew. He knew I was pretending.

I forced my lips to stretch into a bigger smile, forced my voice to lilt happily, but his eyes only narrowed further. What was I doing wrong?

My stomach churned and I felt sick. Now was not the time to slip, because I wasn't better. That was the hard truth of it. I knew I wasn't better, and if anyone else figured it out this close to the anniversary – I was screwed.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I jumped, one hand digging into my pocket to stop the alarm as the other brought my whistle to my lips.

"That's it for today!" I yelled quickly, trying to keep my smile stable on my lips. "Thank you all for attending. I'll see you next week."

A murmur of 'thank you's and goodbyes echoed from the pool and I turned, avoiding Jace's eyes and speed walking towards today's register. I filled it out quickly, signing the bottom and the finish time of the session before dropping it off at the office and heading straight for the door.

There was no time for small talk. Not when Jace had been staring at me all morning with that look in his eyes – that look that meant he knew something.

I needed to leave before he could corner me.

I shoved through the glass doors, wind immediately hitting my face. I squinted through the cold breeze, my hands tightening around the handlebars of my bike as I wheeled it towards the footpath.

I had just reached the curb when suddenly the door opened behind me.

"Jasmine!"

I kept my head down, pushing my bike with an increased sense of urgency.

"Jas! Wait!"

I ignored him, continuing to walk as wind rushed in my ears.

"Come on, please?" His voice was closer – begging.

And my heart tugged, suddenly feeling guilty for pretending I couldn't hear him.

God, he didn't know when to let it go, did he?

I groaned, spinning to meet Jace's eyes. His hair was tousled, his t-shirt askew over his shoulders, and he tugged on it like he'd been in the middle of changing when he'd left. My eyes fell to his untied shoes, only confirming my suspicions.

"Jasmine," he said, panting. He leaned over, his hands moving to his knees as he gasped for breath. He shook his head, a spurt of laughter tearing from his lips. "God, I'm so out of shape. I mean, I guess what did I expect? I've barely been able to walk for the past month, much less –"

"Jace?" I interrupted timidly, my voice barely there beneath the wild wind.

He blinked, realising his rambling, and sent me a sheepish smile, his ears turning pink. "Sorry. I'm a little nervous."

"What's wrong, Jace? If there's a problem, you know you can talk to Jenna."

His smile fell, pulling into a small frown. "There's no problem."

"Okay," I said, my voice tight. I really wasn't in the headspace for a conversation. I needed to leave before I said something I'd regret. So, I sent him a curt nod and said, "I'll see you on Monday then."

I turned, pushing on my bike again when his hand darted forward, his fingers tightening around my arm. I met his eye and his frown deepened.

"Jasmine, look... I don't really know how to word this properly..."

Oh God, it's coming.

He met my eyes again – a firm expression swimming in honey.

"Are you okay?"

And there it was. That stupid, fucking question that everyone asked.

Except no one actually cared about the answer. Even if I answered honestly, things would just become awkward. I'd go to a therapist for a few weeks, and then everyone would move on with better things in their lives.

What was I supposed to say? No, my best friend is dead, and I can't stop seeing her crying face every time I close my eyes.

Was I supposed to tell him that it had been almost a year since Amber died, and that I still felt guilty for surviving? For lying to her? Telling her she'd live as she bled out on the concrete?

She should've been here. She should've been in her senior year. She should've been here, with her bright smile and stupid jokes that could light up any room. She would've handled this much better than me.

Jace would've loved her.

But I couldn't tell him all that. Not unless I wanted to be locked in a hospital. Not unless I wanted Jace to start walking on eggshells around me, just like everyone else in West Mormet.

So, instead I gave the answer he was looking for.

I said what I was supposed to say.

"I'm great," I said, shooting him a wide smile. "Just tired. You know. School. I have this huge project due Tuesday for English and I've just been working on it non-stop. It's a twenty-minute presentation which is a lot of talking for one person, and I've never really been great at public speaking."

I paused my rambling to analyse his reaction. It was a technique I'd mastered months ago when the questions were at their peak – questions I didn't want to answer. Questions I didn't want to think about.

Questions about Amber.

I'd answer, smile, then ramble and divert the question, changing the question in hopes of distracting them. It worked ninety-nine percent of the time.

He was silent for a moment and I thought he'd let it go, but his grip only tightened. His eyes fell from mine to the ground, then back up to mine. He shifted his weight, his bad leg stretching awkwardly beneath him.

"Jasmine, seriously."

Of course, he had to be the one percent.

"I'm being serious, Jace," I said slowly, keeping my eyes on his. Plan B – sound really convincing. "I'm fine. Okay?"

I watched as his jaw tightened and his brow furrowed, like he wanted to say something but didn't know how to say it. Finally, his grip around my arm loosed and his hand slid down, his fingers burning against my skin before falling to his side.

"Look, Jas," he started, releasing a tight breath. "I know how it feels. When it's like nothing's going right. No one understands." He chuckled lightly to himself. "That's an understatement. But –" his eyes drilled through me, sincerity lacing his voice. "I care about you. You helped me. I want to help you."

I'd heard those words a million times. From my mom pretending to understand, from my therapists, from doctors, from Piper – but from Jace, it sounded almost convincing.

I missed Amber so much.

I sighed, tearing my eyes away from his.

"Thank you, Jace, but really. I'm fine."

I didn't dare look up to catch his reaction, but I heard his sigh. I saw him step back, finally letting it go. Finally.

"Alright, Jas," he said slowly. "I'm glad. I can imagine how tiring it'd be to teach a bunch of oldies how to walk in a pool twice a week."

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "You're not a bunch of oldies. You're getting better."

"Right," he teased, his voice lilting playfully. "Except I'm an eighteen-year-old who spends his weekends pruning in a pool with a bunch of seventy-year-olds." He paused. "Not that I don't love them. Dolores is an angel."

I laughed, finally looking up to meet his eye. "She is, isn't she?"

He nodded, smiling, his eyes glittering honey brown in the pale sunlight that slanted over his skin. I found myself reflecting his smile, my lips twitching up at the corner.

"You know, she's been taking these classes for over a year now," I said pointedly.

"Really?" He hummed. "No wonder she's so good at the starfish hops."

I chortled at the image of sweet old Dolores with her flowery swimming cap, lifting her arms and happily hopping in the pool. "She is, isn't she?"

"She gets a solid amount of airtime with each hop," he said sagely, nodding as if he were an expert in starfish hops.

"Maybe you should ask her for some tips."

"I should, hey?" he teased, quirking a brow. He paused, his eyes flitting to his right leg which he flexed hesitantly over the road. "It's insane how quickly you can lose the ability to do such simple things, like walking in a pool."

He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "It's kind of embarrassing how a seventy-year old woman is better at it than me."

I frowned, turning to watch him. He stared into the distance, his brown eyes dark and thoughtful – reminiscent of me a year ago; me now.

"It can be hard," I said finally. He glanced at me, his brow wrinkling deeper. "It's like, suddenly everything takes fifty percent more energy. Even getting up to get a glass of water hurts like hell."

His jaw clenched and a second passed before he said, "Yeah. It's exactly like that."

His eyes drifted up then, glazing over me and shooting my heart into my throat, before drifting over my shoulder to the road. A car rolled over the hill, stopping in front of us.

The engine roared and the wheels thudded against the road – rubber and heavy enough to crush me in one swift move.

It was Jace's mom, I knew that. In fact, it was nothing like Amber's car. This was a blue minivan; Amber had a white sedan.

But when I turned, when I looked through the window into the driver's seat, all I saw was Amber's face. All I saw was broken glass and blood, blood, blood. Sticky. Hot. Staining my skin.

I looked down, slowly, my eyes drifting over my open palms and I felt a scream build in my throat.

Blood.

Blood. All over me.

Blood under my nails that would take an hour to get out. Blood in my fingerprints and knuckles that would take two. Glass sticking to my skin.

Rain.

When did it start raining?

My wrist itched. My skin crawled. I could feel the scars – scars from the accident. Scars from the nightmares. Scars from the images that haunted me for the past year. The ghosts that wouldn't leave me alone.

"Jasmine."

Jace's voice. Always Jace's voice.

But Amber's scream was still ringing in my ears.

It was almost a year. In a week, it'd be the anniversary.

A year without Amber.

A year of forcing smiles, and seeing doctors, and vomiting at three in the morning, and sobbing into my pillow, and scrubbing my skin raw because there's blood. I swear, there's blood. It won't. Come. Off.

A year, and I still wasn't better.

A year, and Amber was still gone, and I was still here when I shouldn't have been.

"Jasmine."

"Jace," I said finally, his name tearing from my throat. I looked up, forcing my eyes to meet his, forcing my smile to pull at my lips.

Amber's not here, I told myself. Amber's not here.

His brow wrinkled and I turned away, my eyes glazing as I stared at the road. The trees. The cars.

"See you on Monday," I managed.

He probably replied, but I didn't hear him.

Instead, I pushed my bike forward and hopped onto the seat, pedalling until my legs burned. Pedalling until the wind burned my throat and dried my tears.

Amber's not here, I thought to myself. And that was the problem.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thank you all so much for 9k reads! That's incredible! I love you all so much!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you thought! Any predictions for the next one? 👀