12.

I LEANED OVER THE KITCHEN COUNTER, my hands flat against the cold granite and eyes trained on the window. It was sunny. Somehow, no matter how impossibly wrong it felt, it was sunny.

My entire body ached. All I wanted to do was stay home, stay in bed, keep my eyes shut and face buried in a pillow. Like that wouldn't be a neon sign, flashing the words: Send me to the hospital, Mom!

So, instead, I was here. Grimacing at the sunlight, ready to spend a day suffering in the prison that was school.

"Did you have breakfast?"

I turned to see my mother entering the kitchen, her curls swept back with a bandana. My father was behind her, scurrying from one end of the room to the other, fixing his tie and fishing in his pockets.

She paused in front of me, rolling an apple across the counter. I caught it, tossing it between my hands hesitantly. My appetite had been missing for the better half of the week and just the thought of food sent my stomach turning.

I offered her a small smile, handing the apple back. "I'll pick something up on the way to school."

She pursed her lips, momentarily eyeing me before reaching over and planting a kiss on my forehead. Her mouth tilted in the unsure way they did when she wanted to say something but knew it was better left unsaid.

"Alright, but make sure it's something healthy, okay? Maybe a sandwich from the café on the corner?"

"Leave her alone, Layla," my dad said. She turned to catch his teasing look. "She's a kid, let her eat her junk food while she's young."

My mom rolled her eyes, facing me once more. "Don't listen to your father."

Though, over her shoulder, he wiggled his brows at me and shot me a wide grin. I released a sharp breath, my lips twitching. "Yes, Mom."

I stood, hiking my backpack over my shoulder, when my mom paused, her hands coming to rest on my arms. I stilled, already sensing the words that were to leave her lips.

"Jasmine," she said softly. "I know that this week must be a tough one for you, but you need to remember –"

"I'm fine, Mom," I said quickly, moving towards the door. "I'm late for school, I've got to go."

"Okay, just – Tomorrow is October 12th and –"

"I know, Mom."

"– if you want to talk, or if anything happens, I have Dr Imogen's number –"

"I'm fine."

"– and the school can call me, or you can talk to the counsellor there –"

I spun on my heel, shooting my mother a firm look. "I'm okay, Mom. Really. It was a year ago. I'm going to school now, okay?"

She frowned, but nodded, stepping back unsurely. I pulled on my shoes, ignoring the tense silence that had swallowed us.

It wasn't until I had grabbed the doorknob that she spoke again.

"I just worry about you, habibti."

Like I didn't know that I was a burden on her. Like the guilt didn't eat at me every day, and I didn't already try my best to get better, or at the very least appear normal, for her.

Nothing really mattered anymore. Not since Amber left me. Not since my last words to her were lies. Fucking lies. Like our friendship was nothing. Those final seconds together, she probably hated me. And who could blame her? I hated myself too.

No, if it wasn't for my mother, I would rot in a disgusting heap in my bed – unmoving and completely uncaring.

You should be grateful, I told myself. You have two loving parents. You have a mother who cares. Why are you so fucking depressed?

My heart dropped from the pit in my stomach to my feet and I felt nauseous all over again. Guilt was eating me alive, and I was letting it happen. Slowly, my hand grew tighter around the doorknob and I craned my neck up to meet my mother's eyes.

My lips grew in a tight smile. "I know, Mom. I'm sorry. I'm better. I swear."

"Good, good," she said quietly, forcing an anxious smile onto her face. "Just remember that we love you, okay? Be happy."

"Yes, Mom."

I tugged the door open, pulling at my backpack straps.

"And don't forget to eat!"

"Yes, Mom."

I closed the door behind me, immediately getting onto my bike and pushing away from my house as quickly as possible.

My stomach churned. My cheekbones burned and I knew I was grinding my teeth – a bad habit when I was anxious.

But tomorrow was October 12th.

October 12th.

A year and I could still see blood staining my fingertips, stuck beneath my nails. A year and I could still hear her screams. My screams. Crying for help. Her face was still painted on the underside of my eyelids, permanently etched.

Tomorrow, it'd be a year since the accident and things had only gotten worse.

I pedalled harder on my bike until my legs burned and ankle throbbed.

I knew I wouldn't be eating anything today.

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It was official. This was the worst day ever.

Well – okay, maybe second worst day ever.

It was like everyone knew what tomorrow was. Probably because they did.

Eyes followed me everywhere. Teachers hesitated when passing me in the hallways – like they were debating whether to speak to me or not. The principal had asked to see me at lunch time to tell me how sorry she was and remind me that she was always there for me.

That was a painful meeting full of forced smiles and rushed 'thank you's in an attempt to leave as quick as possible.

I had zoned out for most of her speech, my ears ringing with Amber's screams and that bang – that awful bang of the car hitting the pole. The scrape of metal on metal that would change my life forever.

The principal droned on and on, and every time Amber's name appeared, her face flashed in my eyes and by the ten-minute mark, I could feel bile rising in my throat.

It was stupid.

Everything was stupid.

I was sick of everyone's pitying looks. I was sick of Piper walking on eggshells around me. I was sick of my mother, deconstructing my every move. It was like everyone was waiting for me to snap.

And after a year of pretending, God, I was fucking close.

I scratched at my wrist, every inch of skin itching under the gaze of what felt like every student in the entire school.

Two more hours. Two more hours and I'd be done, and I could go back to my bed and trashy reality TV shows.

Coping mechanism, said a voice in my head.

I rolled my eyes. Watching reality TV was a pretty good coping mechanism compared to other options. My brain could go silent and I could pretend things were normal for a while. At least, normal by my standards.

Who decided normal, anyway?

I limped with increased urgency towards my locker, desperate for a place to hide from the staring eyes that followed me everywhere this week.

What a horrible week.

And tomorrow – I didn't even want to think about how much worse that'd be.

October 12.

"Hey, Jas. You free after school?"

I turned. Piper appeared in front of me, fresh-faced and smiling. And for a moment, a hot spike of envy shot through me. Because she stayed home on October 12th. Because she never saw Amber die in front of her. Because she could still get a full night's sleep without waking up in a cold sweat, screaming and nauseous.

And I knew I was being dumb, and bitter, and jealous, but I couldn't help it. So, I turned away and shoved my head into my locker, pretending to sort through books.

"Sorry, Piper. I'm a little busy."

Busy with two seasons of Project Runway Junior that I had to binge watch tonight and neglect every piece of homework I had until the dread filled me up so completely that I had to do it all at once – probably while sobbing or disassociating.

It was always one way or the other, no in between.

Either watching reality TV until my brain rotted and eyes burned or throwing myself utterly and completely into my schoolwork so that I couldn't think of anything else – anyone else.

At least I was self-aware, right? That was the first stage of grief. Acceptance. Or was that addiction?

Piper stepped closer. "Really? I was thinking we could have a study date. I have a huge exam on Monday. What do you think?"

Her voice sounded cheerful yet cautious and I could already imagine how the study date would go – with Piper rambling on to fill every second of silence until she finally gives in and brings up Amber. Her careful eyes gauging my reaction to detail to my mother an hour later.

I shook my head, still half-buried into the locker. "Sorry, Piper. I would but I'm really busy."

"Really?" she said, her voice disappointed. "I was really hoping... It's just..."

Here it goes.

"Tomorrow –"

I stiffened.

"You know," she lowered her voiced, gently approaching the topic, "tomorrow's October 12, Jas. It's the anniversary of –"

"I know!" I shouted finally, slamming my locker shut.

She staggered back, her eyes growing wide, and my heart shot into my throat. There you go, Jasmine. Ruining everything. As per usual.

Around us, everyone had stopped, turning to watch us.

And there he was – Jace Wilson. Because of course he had to be walking past right that second. And of course, he had to be close enough to hear everything. He watched me with those wide brown eyes, confusion written all over his face and my heart sunk even further.

I hated it. I hated that I had just given everyone what they were waiting for – just proved them all right. I hated that everyone tiptoed around the topic of Amber, like they wanted to mention it, but couldn't because – Oh no. What about poor Jasmine? She can't handle something like a five-letter fucking word.

I sighed, rubbing a weary hand over my wrinkled brow, and turning my attention back to Piper.

"I'm sorry," I said. She blinked at me with wide eyes and I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I repeated because apparently that was all I could say.

"Jasmine, if you're still grieving over Amber –"

Amber, Amber, Amber. After a year of avoiding her name, suddenly Piper had the need to constantly bring her up, didn't she?

And there she was again – her bleeding face popping into my mind. Her screams in my ears. Her blood, blood everywhere, her tears –

"Jasmine."

I blinked, turning to find Jace beside me. He rested a gentle hand on the small of my back and tilted his body so that he blocked me from the rest of the hallway. My mouth dried up and I couldn't say anything, do anything, except stare with my jaw slack.

He turned his head slightly to meet Piper's eyes and he offered her a small, charming smile.

"Sorry, do you mind if I speak to Jasmine for a second?"

Piper's eyes lit up, immediately forgetting about Amber and our previous conversation. Her eyes darted between Jace and me, her brows wiggling at me suggestively before she smirked and turned, walking down the hall.

I watched her back, unable to face Jace, and we stood in silence for a long moment. Then, he leaned closer to me so that no one else could hear his voice.

"You alright?"

My heart thumped painfully. No.

But I couldn't force the word out. My mouth refused to move. I felt like I was suffocating.

Somehow, all the air had been sucked out of the hallway. My throat was closing. The walls – were they always this close? I squeezed my fingers into tight fists, trying to find my voice, my breath.

But before I could force a smile and reply, Jace nodded understandingly, reading the hitch in my throat and the tense silence.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

His fingers pressed deeper into my back and he straightened, leading me down the hall. I followed silently, grateful that most of the hallway was empty since it was still lunch time. Eyes trailed us, but Jace stared ahead confidently until we were out of the fluorescent lights and in the clouded daytime of the school courtyard.

He paused in an empty corner, covered by a bare tree and half a brick wall.

Wind pushed at my hair and a breath left my lips, my chest finally falling in relief. Finally, I could breathe.

I turned to Jace, my lips lifting into a tired smile. "Thank you."

He nodded, his eyes darting nervously from my face to my hand which scratched urgently at my wrist. His arm lifted and his fingers touched my hand cautiously before taking it into his, entwining our fingers together.

"I hate to ask," he said finally, "but it feels like the whole school is in on some big secret, and you're in the centre of it all. And I haven't spoken to anyone else about it because I'd rather hear it from you but – Jasmine. What happened?"

What happened?

It was a long story.

Where was I supposed to start? The party we went to a year ago, October 12th? The car wrapped around the pole? The metal digging into my skin? Maybe it started the morning after, in the hospital when I woke up realising, I felt nothing but a dull ache in my chest and pain – so much pain.

Jace's fingers squeezed mine and I looked up, meeting his eyes again. He pursed his lips, his brow furrowing as his brown eyes searched mine.

"You don't have to tell me."

"No," I said eventually, my voice breathy and fatigued. "It's just – a year ago tomorrow. October 12. Someone I knew passed away."

He blinked and I could see the puzzle pieces coming together in his head – the stares, Amber's name popping up everywhere, the tense atmosphere drifting through the school this week.

And I braced myself, preparing for his pity. His apologies, as if it were his fault that Amber was dead, and I was alive.

But they never came. Instead, his hand only grew tighter in mine and his brows only drew closer. He stepped towards me, his other hand reaching up to take mine.

"What were they like?"

My eyes squeezed shut – burning with unshed tears.

"Amber," I croaked, the words coming out in a flood, "was the most amazing person in West Mormet. Her smile could light up a whole room in an instant. Everyone loved her. She was adventurous, and clever, and so funny. She could make anyone laugh. Anyone. Even old Mr Mallory."

I paused, my voice swallowed by a choking sound. A lump grew in my throat, and though it was hard – it was so hard to say – I could see her. I could see Amber walking into biology, grinning, twirling her hair. I could see her pouting when she was one mark away from an A+. I could see her giggling, telling a dumb joke that would make the entire class laugh.

A shaky breath fell from my lips, sweeping away on the cold wind. My hands gripped onto Jace's, trembling but warm.

Jace smiled gently at me.

"Impossible," he said, lifting a brow. "No one can make that old geezer laugh."

"Amber could," I replied. "She – she could do anything."

My voice faded into the breeze. Jace listened in silence, waiting for me to continue – to say more. And I wanted to. I wanted to say the words that had been living in the back of my mind for a year, but once I said them, they were out. I couldn't take them back.

They drifted onto my tongue. I sucked in a tight breath that was half-sob, and released them.

"She shouldn't have died," I said finally. "It shouldn't have been her."

It should've been me.

Jace frowned, releasing my hands and pulling me into a hug as if he understood the words I'd left off from the end of my sentence. Understood, and didn't judge. Just let me feel and speak and – and grieve.

His arms wrapped around me and I fell into his embrace, resting my face against his chest as a tear slipped from my eyes. Though my arms stayed limp by my side, refusing to show how much I needed this, I pushed myself further into his arms and he tightened them around me, squeezing me, hugging me.

He rested his chin on mine and held me in silence for a moment. I wasn't sure if it was his heart or mine that I could feel thudding between the two of us.

A second passed. A breeze pushed through us, shaping around our merged bodies. He was warm – so warm – and smelled of sandalwood. I breathed it in, feeling myself calm down from the scent.

When was the last time someone hugged me like this? Without pity – just care and understanding. Just because I needed a hug. Not words of pity. Not advice on how to get better.

Just silence and a hug.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

So, the secret is out! Or at least one secret hehe next time: it's October 12th. Any predictions?

Thank you for 10k reads! I'm so grateful for all of you reading! This is probably the most difficult story I've ever written, so I'm really hoping you're enjoying it so far!

Also, happy Chinese new year to all who celebrate! gong xi fa cai!