Amy swerved blindly and hit the brakes, the blaring horn from the truck rushing past her. The Corolla came to a halt at an odd angle on the asphalt, the smell of burnt rubber curling from the point of contact. Her head was throbbing where it banged against the steering wheel due to the force of the sudden deceleration. A sonorous whistling had filled her ears. Amy's eyes were blind to everything except the afterimages of a harsh light. Death had come for her and she had escaped its grasp by the skin of her teeth. Her numb fingers pulled at the handle of the car door until finally Amy lifelessly collapsed onto the hard, cold road. She crawled away from the car and started shaking uncontrollably.

Wave upon wave of shock coursed through her veins. At that moment, the heavens opened and tears that Amy couldn't shed, rained upon her. The cacophony of the heavy downpour and the rumbling of thunder suddenly brought the volume back in her ears. She gasped for breath as the slanting showers pricked at her scalp. It was hard to drag the misty air inside her lungs. Something had an iron grip on her windpipe.

Amy rested her cheek against the bitumen, letting the waters chill her bones and numb the shock. She thanked the heavens that she could feel the bullet-like raindrops smarting her body. Amy vowed to rise but there was comfort in the cold, blinding darkness. For one exuberant moment, the shudders ceased but in the next they began anew, the sheer cold forcing her body to retaliate.

She had no idea how long she stayed praying on the road, her lips moving soundlessly or shuddering from the cold – Amy could never be sure. She smelled the musty, earthly vapors that were set free by the showers accompanied by the internalized heat from the tarmac. Amy tasted each drop that fell against her lips and she tasted blood from a cut somewhere on her face. Lazily, she caressed the surface that was upholding her, unable to do much else.

Someone is keen on keeping me alive...

And with that thought, Amy passed out.

✧

Somewhere along the lost minutes her thoughts altered, replaced by a fanatical admiration for being the biggest moron on earth since the beginning of time. Amy's nose alerted her regarding the nature of her whereabouts. She inhaled the sterile tang of disinfectants.

Amy unwillingly squinted her eyes open.

Her parents were hovering just in her field of vision, two brown-haired figures against a horribly white background. She groaned, her worst fears confirmed.

"Not the damn hospital again," Amy said, hiding her face in her hands.

Anne exchanged a nervous glance with her husband, beckoning him to speak. But Leigh cut in –

"You were hugging the road," she said, wondering if this act would earn her sister a place in therapy too. Leigh handed Amy a tiny cup of water.

"The mailman brought you here. He found you unconscious on Route 36," her father said, his words meant for Amy but his tone sternly reprimanding Leigh. "Ames, is there anything you would like to tell us?"

"What do you guys wanna know?" she sipped the cool, clear water. Amy immediately stopped sounding like a grumpy toad. Her throat felt much better.

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe you could start around the point where you were lying unconscious in the middle of the road during a storm?" Anne interjected. She had always been the democratic one in the household.

Or how about we discuss when I get to leave this place, Amy thought petulantly. Hospitals were the stars of her 'Places-I-don't-ever-want-to-end-up-in' list but somehow she managed to land in them anyway. Every new city they had visited had been incomplete without at least one of Amy's visits to the land of scrubs and critical eyes. Even Disneyland was a total disaster because of some idiot who had slipped on the ice-skating ring and punched her in the nose with his fat arm.

Amy tried to negotiate. She believed that bargains were a fundamental part of any parent-teenager relationship and often unavoidable. So, it was best not to beat around the bush.

"If I tell you, could I go home?"

"Doctor Paige says that if you must, he might allow it. But if you were drinking and driving, you will find that staying here is your best shot at survival."

Amy rolled her eyes in exasperation and waved her hand at the door, "I wasn't drunk, Dad. They probably have already tested that."

She sighed and loosened her stiff shoulders. Where is my Braves cap when I need it?

All three of them were glaring at her and she couldn't endure such laser-like scrutiny. Like an extra-cracked ostrich, Amy buried her face in her thighs. In a muffled voice she continued, "There was this truck and I didn't see it coming. I think I missed it."

"You think?" Leigh giggled.

The hawk-like 'watch it, young lady' glower from both adults in the room shut her up mid-giggle but Leigh managed to turn those into some really convincing coughs.

"I am not letting you drive till you are forty," her father vowed. 

Amy peeped at his face from her hiding spot, trying to test the waters. Christopher looked vaguely in pain with worry and relief, somehow managing both at the same time.

"That is a classic, bad parenting move Dad," Amy said. "One terrible thing happens and you take it all away from me? C'mon, this is definitely in the 'Don't' column in How to be cool yet firm parents."

The corners of her father's mouth twitched. Anne brushed off stray tears.

Okay, heading into Mushyville now.

"Ew, Mom, you're leaking salt water," Amy said, fake-grimacing. Leigh burst out laughing and her mother half-hiccupped, half-chortled. Her father tightened his grip on Anne's hand.

"The doctor says that you are stable but he would like to keep you here overnight, just to be certain," he repeated.

Amy looked at him, horrified. "Dad, please. You know how much I hate this place."

Mr. Irvine exhaled gruffly and said, "I will see what I can do." He stood up and kissed Amy on the top of her head. "We love you so much, Ames."

The unconditional sincerity in his eyes disarmed Amy. A lump formed in her throat and the gravity of what had happened overwhelmed her like a rogue wave. One misshapen second and she wouldn't be here, talking to her family. "I love you guys too," Amy said thickly, the words difficult to form.

She cleared her throat after her father left to consult the doctor. "Can I have some more water?" Amy asked her sister.

Unsurprisingly, the 'good' doctor was in open disapproval but since Mitch Paige was personally aware of Amy's hatred for hospital settings, he let her go. Albeit with strict warnings against sudden movements and physical exertion.

She felt lighter just stepping out of the glass doors of Anglestone Hospital. It was still raining, harder than ever. This time, however, Amy was much calmer than she had been all night. It felt so good being driven around. She could rest her head against the cool glass in the backseat and watch the drops journey from the top to her nose, while the warmth of the heater in the car cocooned her. Leigh held her hand firmly till the very moment they pulled into the driveway.

Caleb was sitting on the front porch steps, waiting. His dark hair was messy and his eyes widened as he appraised her. Amy cocked her head and raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to judge her appearance. The minutes that followed were as forgettable as the beginnings of her dreams. Except for one thing.

As her parents rushed to open the door, Caleb slowly walked into the rain. This was the moment of truth. A semblance of sanity that would surely prevail. Invisible but solid meant that the rain should have left a human-shaped, water-free gap in Amy's regular, three-dimensional world. That was the logical way.

Amy didn't realize that she was holding her breath.

But something was way off and seldom were things so above and beyond her predictions. They were never so hard to explain either. The heavy raindrops were not heading vertically toward him. They angled, ever so sublimely away from him, at a considerable distance above his head though the trajectory of any two drops was never alike. Some streaks of water came closer to him while others fell farther away. But none made contact. Caleb just stood there, his jacket and Nikes dry, as if they had been left hanging in the sun for hours. Amy tried visualizing his invisibility against the torrent to check whether it looked unreal in any way. But she knew that the wind could easily be held responsible for the chaotic pattern of the rainfall around his body.

"What are you gaping at?" Leigh called out from the porch. "You'll catch a cold!" 

She ran down the steps and pulled Amy toward the house. 

Amy had her eyes locked on Caleb's until the tug she felt at her right arm startled her. She became aware of the water soaking into her own clothes. Amy and Leigh wordlessly entered the house and shrugged off droplets onto the hardwood floor. Her father handed them towels.

Caleb stood frozen. He looked at her questioningly, his stubborn chin thrust up. The rain continued to angle itself infinitesimally away from him; as if he were a freak of nature that it skittishly wanted to avoid. Her only answer was a pointed look as she left the door ajar and hastened up to her room. She paused to look at the bright yellow, 'Cleaning in progress' sign that her mother had put on her door. At least I am responsible for the mess inside, Amy thought miserably.

Caleb had a choice in their partnership. Amy wanted the record to reflect that he could always walk away from her if so he desires.

He stepped on the doormat just as Anne, who was grumbling about the storm and careless teenage drivers, shut the door. Caleb sensed that the mood in the house had shifted markedly since the morning.

Amy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, observing the dirt under her fingernails and behind her ears with disdain. Her hair would have perfectly complimented a rather unsightly, male Neanderthal. Mechanically, she began washing up for bed. And for the conversation she had almost died for.

In the solitude of her blue-tiled bathroom, the shudders returned with vengeance. The scalding water only seemed to aggravate her muscles. Bits of resilient mud left streaks of brown in the bathtub.

Using both hands she steadied herself against the wall, facing the hot cascade. As she waited for her breathing to slow down, Amy was fervently grateful that on both accounts of her indisposition, she had been completely alone.

How did everything spiral so insanely out of hand?

Amy wore her comfort clothes. A long-sleeved tee that had pandas on them and her worn-out VS PJs. She paced back into her room, the spasms in her muscles diminishing, to find three people inside. Two of whom were wearing similar expressions of concern and obvious love and the third brooding handsomely in a shadowy corner by the window.

"We come bearing hot chocolate and cuddles," her mother smiled, comfortingly. She patted the spot beside her, urging Amy to sit between them.

"Oh no, I am definitely too old for that," she said, shaking her head at the pink, flowery mug her father was holding. "And not to mention that," Amy squeaked in a higher voice, incredulously waving at the space between her parents. But exactly two seconds later, she had placed herself there. Anne kissed her hair and held her close. With a pang, Amy remembered how Emma was supporting Mrs. Dawson at Caleb's place. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Her father handed her the mug.

"Thanks, Dad," Amy snuffled.

Their disapproval of her behavior was evident, and they admonished her for being so reckless. She liked their brand of tough love. After her parents left, Amy felt safer than she had all year. Neither the heater in the car nor the hot shower could have warmed her shaken bones better than her mom's words. Amy didn't even mind the dark, cursed entity hovering in the background. However, she knew she couldn't avoid his blue gaze any longer.

Amy fell against the bed and stretched out, her joints cracking. From her vantage point, she looked through her lashes at a seemingly upside-down Caleb. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed against his muscular chest. The seconds stretched into minutes until the strain was back, pushing them further apart than they had been before. Inside her cozy, messed-up room, it became exceedingly convenient to believe that the storm was someone else's problem.

"Where were you?" Amy balled her fists in an effort to keep her voice even.

"What happened to you?" Caleb shot back.

Amy didn't want to acknowledge it but hearing his voice did calm her aggravated nerves. After all, she had stumbled over numerous tree roots just to locate him. Ridiculously, it was starting to look like she was way more invested in this than she had previously believed.

"You weren't at your house," she said, the accusation faint in her tone.

"I was, for a time. You went looking for me?"

Two plus two.

"Yes," Amy said, barely whispering the word. The evidence of Caleb's disappearance was undisputable now, looming large and black. "Mrs. Dawson and Emma are distraught."

"Yeah. Mom has finally reported me missing," he said, rubbing his brow as if he was trying to ward off a terrible headache. "And the new sheriff doesn't like me much either."

Amy sensed the undercurrent of a rift between Caleb and his mother but she wasn't sure if he would answer, even if she were to question him about it. Instead, she let the seconds tick by.

"What happened to you?" Caleb repeated, a little more forcefully this time.

Amy contemplated and then settled on the most ambivalent response. Adopting a bland voice, she said, "Nothing really, I should have paid more attention while driving. I am terrible at it under normal circumstances. In the storm, I couldn't see very clearly. I lost control for a bit."

Stepping away from the shadowy recesses he walked toward her. Confusion swept across his rugged face and he pointed, "How did you cut yourself then?"

Amy looked away, biting her cheek. Caleb sighed and leisurely moved towards the bedroom door. He tried to open it and to no one's surprise, the brass handle did not shift. With his back to her, Caleb said, "Looks like I'm stuck here with a liar."

He had emphasized the word 'stuck' too much for her liking, and Amy wanted to be cross. But the anger just wouldn't ignite. She was too numb because of the residual cold, she was carrying. Tiny goose bumps erupted on her arms and legs. Wesley, the forest, the lights –

She sat bolt upright. Caleb half-turned, bemused. His eyebrows were arched inquisitively. Amy was done asking nicely.

"Where were you?" she demanded.

He regarded her shrewdly, his cobalt eyes frosting. Caleb was deliberating. He could lie and he knew Amy would have no way of confirming it. His fingers skimmed along the edge of her dresser. The room was in its original state of disarray, with too many things hanging outside their respective compartments.

"I spent a rather productive day in the forest, looking for my physical body," he answered, smiling crookedly at her. The smile did not reach his eyes. Caleb hummed as his fingers traced the swell of her cream-colored bra. "There was this rather annoying cat yapping about, really reminded me of you."

Amy gripped the nearest object she could find, her pillow, and threw it at him. It angled away and landed a foot from him. He hadn't moved an inch.

He grinned wickedly. "Is your aim really that bad?"

Oh, this is getting us nowhere. Her intuition hadn't been completely off the mark, he had been in the forest. All night, they had played a twisted game of hide-and-seek missing each other at every turn. But there was something missing.

"What were you doing –?" Amy began.

"I told you, I was look–"

"No, listen to me! What were you doing in the forest the night of the carnival?"

His arrogant 'Are you really that stupid' expression was cut off, like a switch. Caleb narrowed his eyes and regarded her coolly. "That is none of your business."

Amy raised both her hands in surrender. "How am I supposed to help you if you are never completely honest with me?"

Caleb stalled, pretending to be absorbed in picking imaginary lint off his jeans. He abruptly looked at her and said in an urgent voice, "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You can't. But you have no other way out of this."

He cocked his head, his mouth twisting in a smile that said, 'Yeah right'.

Amy glared at him and walked towards the door. She wrenched it open. "Fine, get out then." 

If he thought he could do this on his own then he was very much welcome to try.

Caleb clenched his jaw. "You are insufferable."

Bullshit.

"Leave," she commanded in a low voice, her stance calm and reserved. I dare you, Caleb.

He ran a disconcerted hand through his hair. A vein appeared on the side of his neck. In a tense voice, he said, "I had some business to take care of."

Fuck this dude. "You were dealing you mean," she spat at him, slamming the door shut. "You were supposed to give Wesley whatever the fuck he was on, weren't you!?"

Her resentment towards whichever vile drug Caleb dealt was all it took. Flames roared inside Amy, livid and horrifying; warming her from within. She welcomed the anger. Amy's voice grew louder, "What did he ever do to you?"

"He was asking for it," Caleb yelled back. "He begged me for months!"

Realization dawned upon her. Caleb had written Wesley off the minute he had handed that drug to him. Knowingly, he had sold him into a fate far worse than death. "You knew what it does. You knew and you gave it to him anyway," Amy choked, remembering Wesley's pathetic, writhing form. How he had licked and bit at his own filthy fingers.

They were standing within an inch of each other and Amy could feel the hostility emanating from him. Caleb's striking features were contorted, his furious eyes pinned on her. He couldn't have cared less about Wesley, or her for that matter.

Caleb only cared about himself.

"Of course, I know what it does. I've done it myself," he said hoarsely, pulling back his sleeve to show her the four-point scar on the inside of his left forearm. Amy's stomach turned over at the sight of it and realization set in, burdening her with the painful memories of the past. Her fury burnt brighter than her pain, consuming her.

"Anaxan is illegal for a reason!" Amy hissed at him. Caleb was breathing heavily, no longer certain if his anger was directed towards Amy or himself.

"What is it to you anyway?" he lashed out. "And don't tell me you cared for Broad, because I know you think he is far below your stuck-up ass!"

"You self-righteous bastard," Amy snarled and tried shoving him with all her might. It was as though a marionette master was pulling at her arms with non-existent strings. Her arms splayed around his body; as if something had diverted the path they were supposed to go on. Amy lost her balance, tripping sideways over her hairbrush, and landed on her butt at the foot of the dresser.

Exactly then, a loud boom deafened Amy. Her ears were ringing again and the power in the house went out instantly.

It was as though someone had thrown a dark mantle over them, hiding the distressed freaks from the audience in the show, and everything they had argued over suddenly became comically obsolete.

What just happened?

✧

A/N: This was a longer chapter than usual but I felt after last week's cliffhanger, I needed to cough up more words as a peace offering. Don't think it actually worked though 😂🙈. Day two and these teenagers have already exploded on each other. God help us.