‘At all the wrong times. Would it help if you talked about it? I mean, can you? If you can only tell Noah I’ll understand. You should talk to someone.’
Tucking my knees up to my chest, I considered his suggestion. He looked so anxious for me that I wanted to prove to him I wasn’t trying to shut him out.
‘It’s not that I’m not allowed to speak,’ I explained. ‘It’s just I can’t remember anything.’ Twisting my fingers together and resting my chin on my knees, I attempted to piece together what little I had. ‘When I die, I go somewhere else. Somewhere warm and peaceful and very real, if that makes sense. It’s not like a dream. In fact, it feels so real that coming back to life feels more like falling asleep.’
By the baffled look on his face, I knew I was doing a terrible job of explaining.
