48
I don’t want to watch this. It takes me a moment to remember that I don’t have to—I’m in charge.
So I change my focus.
“Forward,” I think. “Twenty-four hours. Show me Halli.”
I want to know how she’s coping. I want to comfort her, if I can. Speak some words of hope in her ear. Tell her she’ll be happy again. Tell her … something. I don’t even know. I just know that she needs a friend right at this moment, and I’m here, and I want to help her get through this.
I’m in a bedroom. There’s a mattress on the floor. Colorful wall hangings. Pretty flowers in vases.
People gathered around the bed. Sobbing. A shape on the bed—a body—completely covered in a white sheet.
Ginny is inconsolable.
Because it’s Halli who is dead.
“NO,” I tell myself, jerking back from the scene. I can’t watch t
