Page 19 of Firefly Effect

She died under a pale-blue moon

Bioluminescence bled her path

With blood-soaked hair and lake-shone shoes

Weapon placed in a moonlit bath

A final breath squeezed between bones

Her small body, so limp, now serene

A moment too late, her light flown

Yet somehow, I knew she was free

“Evie, you okay?”

My entire chest feels like it’s wrapped in the coils of a giant snake squeezing the life out of me as I stand there, not even trying to free myself—an all-too-familiar feeling that hits me like a hammer, reminding me why twelve years of therapy will never be enough. Not when memories like this can paralyze my psyche at any time. One mental image and it’s like I’m right back at that campground, chasing after fireflies in the woods one minute and losing my friend to murder the next.

“Evie,” the voice says again, this time more firmly, lifting me a bit further from my trance.

I look over to find Janessa staring at me, her forehead dented in the center, as her hands shake my shoulders gently.

“I’m… I’m fine.” I suck in a slow breath, wanting the words to be true. My shoulders straighten against her hold, and I back away.

When I step down, a sharp pain stabs the bottom of my foot. “Ow!” Looking down, I realize a shard of glass just went through my sole and into the arch of my foot. Fuck me for wearing slippers in the bar. One day, I’ll actually listen to my uncle’s warnings.

I lift my foot then pluck the piece of glass out and discard it into the nearest trash can. Next, I look around for the broom only to find that Armando already has it in his hands and is walking toward us.

“We’ll clean this up, Evie,” Janessa says. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? Armando and I can close.”

Looking into Janessa’s serene eyes, I find myself wondering why we haven’t become better friends. We’ve known each other since I started visiting my uncle. We’re the same age. She’s nice. We already spend so much time together at work, and we seem to share the same love for EDM pop and classic literature. But Janessa was always super popular in town, and when I came to visit my uncle growing up, I felt like such a third wheel to all the established friendships in town. Which is probably why I gravitated toward Carley so easily. She was an outsider too.

But wondering is pointless, considering I know the exact reason I haven’t bonded with her at a deeper level. Relationships aren’t my thing. Boyfriends, friendships—they’re all commitments that will inevitably lead to disappointment, abandonment, heartbreak, and sometimes even tragedy. Nothing lasts, so why even try?

“Thank you,” I tell her, taking her up on her suggestion. “I’m going to bandage my foot, then I think I need to go for a walk or something.”

“Take your time.” She squeezes my arm. “If you’re not back, we’ll lock up.”

I look around the full bar. It’s one of the busiest weeknights we’ve had in a while. Patrick would be elated to see the crowd. “I owe you.”

Janessa tilts her head. “Evie, we get paid for this.” She jerks her head toward the door. “Get out of here.”

I back away, hesitating for only a moment before removing my apron. After a quick stop at the first-aid kit, I head for the door.

The moment I step outside into the night air, I pull a deep breath into my chest, but it’s not enough. Instinctively, I reach for my phone and use speed dial to call the one person who knows how to calm me in these dark moments.

But three rings in, reality hits me. J.D. isn’t going to answer. He may never answer again.

Tears are blinding me by the time I round the first corner, just as his generic voicemail answers and prompts me to leave a message.

“Um, hi, J.D. It’s me—um—Evie. I just…” I clear my throat. “I had one of those days, you know? The bad ones where I remember so much.”

I squeeze my eyes shut before opening them again to blurry surroundings. “Jimmy was drunk again at the bar, and then I just started thinking about all those nights you and Patrick would get drunk at Deep Creek Campground.”

My chest tightens as I smile sadly. “Then I started to remember Carley and I panicked a little.” I take in a shaky breath. “Anyway, I’m sorry I called. For a second, I forgot you quit. Or retired.” I let out an awkward laugh. “Or went on leave. To be honest, no one knows why you left or where you are.”

I frown, realizing just how strange it all sounds to say out loud. Patrick doesn’t even know where J.D. is, and they’ve been friends forever. Why doesn’t anyone know what’s going on with him? Why hasn’t J.D. called to explain why he had to leave so suddenly? And why do I abruptly feel so incredibly lost?

---