Page 130 of Irreversible

His.

I make it my mission to find him.

I won’t give up, won’t stop looking—not until I’ve memorized the shape of his eyes and the curve of his lips. Isaac is still alive, and this guitar pick is meant for him.

I’ll track him down.

Tell him I’m sorry.

And then we’ll both make music again.

The curtain shuffles, and I reach behind me to tuck the pick underneath my pillow, just as a shock of familiar auburn hair catches my eye.

Allison stands at the edge of my bed. Eyes huge. Freckled cheeks glistening with tears.

My best friend.

“Ev…” She takes a cautious step forward, almost like I’m a mirage she’s terrified to watch dissipate before her eyes. “God…it’s really you.”

I hold out my hand, needing to feel her. To hold her. “Allison.”

“Ev,” she croaks again before rushing forward. She collapses against me, sobbing into my hair. “You’re real. You’re alive. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

I close my eyes and inhale her scent. Lilacs and vanilla. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I d-didn’t fight…hard enough.” More sobs, more desperate squeezes. “You were alive…this whole time.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Ishouldhave.” Another firm hug. “Some mornings I would wake up believing you were still alive, lost, waiting for us to find you, and the guilt would sucker-punch me. Crush me, body and soul. And then I’d go to sleep at night, deciding you were floating somewhere among the stars, looking down on me. At peace.”

It’s funny how everyone’s perspective has been so different. Jasper thought I was dead. Mom was convinced I was alive. Allison was riddled with uncertainty, torn in both directions.

Loss is so subjective.

And disappearances are a specific kind of loss. No closure, no answers. Just a gaping hole of unknowns and heartache.

Death is easier. Death is tangible.

Loose ends are just tragic, the threads dangling forever out of reach.

I can’t imagine how it’s been for any of them. I watch through blurry eyes as Allison sits up, perched at the edge of my mattress. Her normally tanned skin is sallow. Sapped of life. I want to bring the color back to her cheeks. “Tell me what I’ve missed,” I prompt, reaching for her hand.

Her eyes drift closed, a swallow catching in her throat. “So much. Everything.”

“Did you break up with Erik?”

Erik was the man she was seeing at the time of my abduction. They’d been on the outs after a seemingly disastrous vacation in Belize. I still remember our playful text messages that night. Our final conversation.

Allison curls her thin reddish hair behind her ears and bobs her head. “Yes. It was over the moment we landed at the airport. I broke up with him at baggage claim.”

“The irony.”

She forces a light laugh. “Yeah.” Casting her gaze away, she rubs her lips together. “Your mom has been a rock for me. She’s a piece of you…a beautiful piece. She took me under her wing, and we grieved together. There was comfort in that.”

“I’m glad,” I say softly. “I’m glad you were there for each other.”

“Are you going to stay with your mother for a while, until you get back on your feet?” She glances at me, her eyes wide and glossy.

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