All This Time(50)

I push myself up and go over, looking out into the storm. It’s still raging furiously.

“Marley?” I call out toward the empty basement.

Only silence answers me. Georgia paws again and my stomach tightens. Is Marley out there? In this mess?

I throw open the door. A cold wind rips through the bare trees and almost yanks me along with it. The rain pours off the roof as I run around the house, the downpour instantly soaking my clothes. Dread creeps up the back of my neck. A dread that’s familiar in a way I don’t want to think about.

“Marley!” I call as I run, the sound of electricity sizzling in the air, lightning flashing angrily across the sky. A searing pain stretches the length of my scar, and I try to will it away, ignoring the memories that start to intrude as I stagger forward, calling her name again and again. “Marley, where are you?”

I stumble into the street, looking up and down the block, the streetlights burning bright through the rain, fighting back against the stormy darkness that threatens to overtake them. There’s another explosion of light, a flash in front of my eyes, the bolt hitting a transformer at the far end of the street and showering the neighborhood in fireworks of sparks. I struggle to see through the rain and the wind, but it batters my eyes and my face, my head searing with pain as the streetlights pop off one by one, the darkness racing closer and closer to me until the street is completely black.

Yip-yip! Georgia.

I spin in the direction of the house, and all of the lights go on at once, illuminating the front lawn, the porch, the path to the basement. Is Marley back inside?

There’s another crack of lightning across the sky, and I see a silhouette in front of me for just a moment before the pain hits me, ricocheting around my skull and all across my body. A pain so blinding all I can do is shout as I tumble forward, face-first. There’s no stopping my fall. My head slams hard against the ground. Then it all goes black.





25


A bright light, a nurse reaching out to take my hand as I fight to raise it.

Shattered glass.

Kim’s face.

Screaming.

The seat belt locking around her chest.

“Page Dr. Benefield immediately!”

Long brown hair surrounded by a halo of light. Hazel eyes.

Marley?

Marley. Where’s Marley?





26


I open my eyes again to see Dr. Benefield studying my face intently. She smiles, pushing her glasses onto her head.

“Welcome back, mister,” she says loudly, the sound crisp and clear. I wince, taken aback. “You gave us quite a scare. Can you hear me?”

I open my mouth, but my throat feels like sandpaper, raw and dry and scratchy. “M—” I croak out, but it’s like there are tiny shards of glass rubbing against my vocal cords.

“Don’t talk,” Dr. Benefield instructs.

But I need to. I need to ask where Marley is. All I can remember is blinding lightning, the storm raging, and her, nowhere to be found.

“Mar—,” I rasp, wincing in pain. Dr. Benefield reaches out, touching my arm and shaking her head, her face serious.

“Shh,” she insists. “I’ll get your family. They’re going to be so excited.”

I watch her leave, fighting to keep my eyes open, the lights still uncomfortably bright, my vision cloudy. Hazy.

I focus on the voices outside the room, but my body feels so weak, completely depleted. Next to me a machine beeps loudly, tracking my pounding heart rate.

“Someone’s very happy you’re awake,” Dr. Benefield says from the door.

Marley.

My eyes swing back to Dr. Benefield, her outline still foggy, but I can make out a girl next to her, arm in a sling.

She pushes open the door farther and…

The entire room spins. I grab on to the rail on my bed, my breath seizing. I shut my eyes and wait for it to subside, to come back into reality like always. I must have really hit my head, because this flash is bad. More real than any of the others.

But when I open my eyes, the air rushes right out of me again.

Because it isn’t Marley who walks through the door.

It’s Kimberly.

And this time she doesn’t fade.

But I do.





27


When I wake up, I keep my eyes squeezed shut, the nightmare with Kim slowly ebbing. I hear the machines beeping next to me, the sterile smell of hospital sheets filling my nose, a hand stroking my arm lightly, gently.

I must’ve hit my head bad in the storm. Bad enough to need to go to the hospital again. Bad enough to have a flash like that.

“These summer storms are drowning my roses. Why won’t it—”

“Mom,” I croak as I open my eyes, relieved, the image of Kim replaced by my mom’s profile, the colors sharp and bright. I look around the room, too weak to sit up, too disoriented to take everything in, my mind moving in slow motion.

Her eyes swing over to look at me, and she gasps, then plants kisses all over my face, tears swimming into her eyes. “I thought I’d never hear that again.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask as the tears fall all over me. I groan, reaching up to touch my head. “I fell. Hit my head, I think.”

She hesitates, frowning slightly, her hand pausing on my arm. “Do you remember anything?”