Some wounds don’t bleed—they speak.

Eddie didn't remember getting into the car, or the drive home. His mom's voice was a muffled echo, a soft buzz behind the storm that howled in his head. Everything was fog. His fists clenched his jeans, white-knuckled and damp. He was home, but the walls felt like a foreign country. He stumbled to his room and collapsed on the bed without bothering to switch on the lights.

He didn't cry at first. He just stared. At the ceiling. At the nothingness. At the shadow of her face that kept dancing in his mind like a cruel, beautiful ghost. Maya.

The way she smiled when she teased him. The little frown she'd make when she was reading. The sharp tongue. The soft glances. And then the blood. The sirens. The way her eyes fluttered before they closed.

He turned on his side, breathing unevenly.

He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He couldn't drink. He couldn't stop replaying every second of her, every breath she took, every time she looked at him like maybe—just maybe—he mattered.

He remembered the first time he saw her. Freshman year. She was arguing with a teacher in the hallway, fierce and stunning and untouchable. Her hair had been up in this messy bun and she looked like a goddess dipped in chaos. He didn't speak to her. He didn't even try. She wasn't someone you just walked up to. She was someone you looked at from far away and told yourself to forget.

But he never could.

He remembered the prom too. The moment she stormed outside, heels in hand, mascara smudged, furious at something or someone. He'd been eating licorice and had no idea what to say. So he handed her a red Twizzler. And she blinked at him like he was the strangest creature she'd ever seen, and took it. They didn't speak, just sat in silence. And he remembered thinking, even then, that he'd give anything to matter to her.

And somehow—somehow—he had.

She had let him in. And now she was slipping through his fingers like dust and blood and panic.

His mom peeked in hours later. "Eddie… do you want some water?"

He didn't answer. Just curled tighter into himself. And cried.

Maya's eyelids fluttered. The world was too bright, and too quiet. Her chest ached. Her throat burned. But what hurt most was the silence. That heavy silence that told her something was wrong.

She blinked slowly and turned her head.

Her father was asleep, hunched over her bed, his head resting on her hand. His hair looked grayer. His face older. Her mother sat in the corner, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the tiled floor like it had answers.

Maya weakly lifted her hand and tapped her father's head.

He jerked awake and stared at her. "Maya?" His voice cracked, raw and broken. "Baby—oh my God—Maya."

He grabbed her hand and kissed it, and then he started crying. Not just tears—sobs. Real, choking sobs that made his whole body shake.

"I'm sorry," he said over and over. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I didn't see you. I'm sorry for every time I made you feel alone."

Her mother came closer but didn't touch her. Her hands trembled. Her mouth opened, then shut. She looked like she was about to fall apart.

Maya's voice was hoarse. "Why?"

They both froze.

"Why did you do that to me?" she rasped. "I did nothing to you. Nothing. I loved you. I wanted… a family. A normal life. I wanted to come home and feel safe. I wanted to tell you things. I wanted you to care."

Her mother collapsed into sobs in the chair, covering her face.

"I thought I wasn't enough," Maya whispered. "I thought it was me. That something was wrong with me. But it was you. Both of you."

Her father leaned in and pressed his forehead to her hand, whispering, "I know. I know. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Maya closed her eyes. It hurt to feel this much.

And then she drifted off again.

When she opened her eyes again, the light was dimmer. The air cooler. There were voices.

Luna was there, wiping tears from her cheeks. Zeke stood silently beside her, biting his lip. And then Sally rolled in, pale, leg casted, her eyes already red.

"Don't leave me," Sally cried, gripping Maya's sheets. "Don't you dare, you hear me? I'll kill you if you die, I swear to God."

And Eddie. Eddie stumbled in like he'd been running for hours. His shirt was wrinkled, his face sunken, his eyes bloodshot.

He dropped to his knees beside her bed and grabbed her hand.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you so damn much, Maya. I'm sorry I didn't say it enough. I'm sorry I wasn't enough."

He kissed her fingers, her palm, her wrist. His whole body trembled.

Her eyes opened fully. "Eddie."

He looked up, startled.

She smirked weakly. "You're crushing my wound, dumbass."

He yelped and pulled back. "Oh my God—shit—I'm sorry—"

And she laughed. It hurt, but she laughed.

"I'm not even wearing makeup," she groaned. "And you came in here with a whole declaration of love."

He grinned through the tears. "You look perfect."

She squeezed his hand. "Is Vic…?"

Luna looked down. "He's in the ICU. Still alive. Still fighting."

Maya nodded. Her throat tightened. "Good."

They sat around her, crying, smiling, talking about everything and nothing, soaking in every second like it was the last one they'd ever get.

Later that night, when the room was empty and moonlight pooled across the floor, there was a knock.

Maya didn't answer.

The door creaked open, and Jackie rolled in. Her wheelchair moved slowly, her hands shaking as they turned the wheels. Her face was pale, lips dry, eyes hollow.

Maya looked away.

Jackie stopped near the bed, quiet for a long moment. "You awake?"

Silence.

"I'll just… talk, then," Jackie said. "I know I'm the last person you want to see. I wouldn't want to see me either."

Maya stared at the wall.

Jackie exhaled. "I was always jealous of you. Since day one. You had this light around you. People loved you without you even trying. You were funny, smart, beautiful, everything I wanted to be. And I hated you for it. Even when you were kind to me. Even when you called me your sister."

She looked down at her legs. "I thought you had the perfect life. The perfect friends. The perfect everything. I wanted it. I thought if I couldn't have it… I'd ruin it."

Jackie's voice broke.

"But this… this whole nightmare… it woke me up. I almost died, Maya. And all I could think about was how ugly I've been. How I'd be remembered as the bitter, fake, backstabbing girl who betrayed her best friend."

She looked up.

"I'm sorry. I know it's too late. I know things will never be the same. I just… I needed you to hear it."

Maya finally turned her head. Her eyes were heavy. Her heart even heavier.

"You hurt me," she said softly.

"I know."

"I loved you like family."

"I know."

Maya looked at her for a long time. Then whispered, "Don't die bitter."

Jackie nodded. Her voice was barely a breath. "I won't."

And then she left.

And Maya closed her eyes.