Chapter 20
Jul 18, 2025
The school was loud. Too loud. Laughter, footsteps, locker doors banging open—everything was at full volume, but none of it felt real. It was like walking through someone else’s dream.
Someone called my name down the hall. I didn’t turn around.
Amber’s laugh rang out near the lockers. Too loud. Too fake. I caught a flash of her hair, her hand looping through someone’s arm, her head thrown back like she’d already forgotten I existed.
Like she’d won.
Miles was at the vending machine, arms crossed, one foot tapped against the tile. Waiting for me. Or maybe just waiting for something to happen. He gave me that look—like he knew too much. Like he wanted to say something helpful but couldn’t decide if it was worth it.
I walked faster.
And then there was Chase—or rather, the absence of him.
He wasn’t in the hallway. Not at lunch. Not outside after school. Not in any of the places I’d memorized him into.
No texts. No calls. No “hey, you good?”
Nothing.
I’d checked my phone so many times the battery was nearly dead by second period. I’d tried telling myself he was busy. I’d even drafted a message and deleted it before I could hit send.
Why are you doing this?
Did I do something wrong?
Do I even exist to you now?
I wanted to scream. Or throw something. Or just know.
Because if he liked me—if any of it had been real—then why the hell was he doing this?
What was the point of all those looks, all those words, all that pull, if he could just vanish?
Was it a game?
Did he win?
Did I lose?
Someone bumped into my shoulder, muttered a half-hearted “sorry”, and moved on. I didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink.
I was so tired of pretending I didn’t care.
I skipped lunch. Sat in the stairwell instead, listening to my heartbeat in my ears. It didn’t feel steady anymore. Not since the fight. Not since the kiss that tasted like goodbye. The only thing that kept me moving was autopilot. One class after the next. One breath after another. I didn’t speak unless spoken to. I didn’t write unless forced.
By the time I got home, the sky was painted in dying shades of purple and gray. I didn’t speak to my mom. Didn’t even look at her. I dropped my bag at the door, walked upstairs, and crawled into bed with my hoodie still on.
I waited. Not just for a text, but for a sign. For some proof that Chase still existed outside my memories.
He didn’t send anything.
The weight behind my eyes pulled me under. I didn’t change. Didn’t wash my face. I just laid there in a pile of broken rules and unspoken fears, letting the silence claim me.
Until the phone rang.
Too early. Too loud. The kind of sound that felt wrong by instinct alone.
I shot up, heart in my throat, throat already dry. I grabbed it from under the pillow, voice half-broken. “Hello?”
The line crackled. Then a woman’s voice. Fragile. Trembling. Worn raw by something that shouldn’t exist in a parent’s vocabulary.
“Is this Zoey Hale?”
The name felt foreign in my ears. “Yes,” I whispered.
A pause.
“This is Chase’s mother.”
My breath caught.
“Zoey… Chase is in the hospital.”
The air collapsed around me.
“He—he almost did something last night. They found him in the garage.”
