Allie
I woke with Logan’s bedroom door beneath my hand.
For one terrible second, I did not know where I was.
The room was dark, but not familiar. The curtains were heavier than mine. The ceiling was higher. The sheets smelled clean and unfamiliar, and the silence around me felt too complete.
Then the dream returned.
My birthday.
The livestream still running.
My hand pushing open Logan’s bedroom door.
The woman in his bed.
His face when he saw me.
Not guilt.
Annoyance.
As though I had interrupted something instead of discovering the end of my life.
In the dream, I stood frozen while thousands of viewers watched through my phone. Their comments moved too quickly to read, but I heard them anyway.
She deserved it.
Look at her face.
This has to be fake.
Why is she still standin
