TW: This chapter contains references to automobile accidents and panic attacks. Reader discretion is advised.

You can't escape Grief.

Josh

Sam just left, and I'm about to head home as well because there's no way I'm staying here by myself. It's a beautiful house but also pretty darn creepy.

As I head for the door, I notice Sam's wallet lying on the floor near the front door.

"Well, looks like I'm heading over to Sam's house," I say to the empty foyer as I pick up the wallet. "He's going to need this if he's taking the girls out tomorrow."

I leave the house, locking the door behind me and start walking across the unkempt lawn to where my car is parked around the side of the house, thinking about frayed cables and loose roof tiles. Absently reaching into the pocket of my jeans to get my phone, intending to make a note about asking Lewis, the electrician, to look into the plug in the kitchen that makes a crackling sound whenever we're plugging something into it, I discover that my phone is not in my pocket.

Okay, guess I'm heading back into the house again, then.

A cold drop of water splashes onto the top of my foot, creating a blossom in the dust, and I look up to see thick, angry-looking clouds rolling in. I wonder why my feet are bare; where did my shoes go? I wiggle my toes into the wet grass while I walk, looking up at the imposing shape of the large house. It looks even more ominous with the storm brewing. It reminds me of so many haunted house movies I've seen, and now I have to go in there to get my phone... alone.

I facepalm myself for thinking about haunted houses when I'm about to go back into one that might actually be haunted for all I know. When I reach the front door, the friendly man in our school mascot costume opens the door for me and hands me my phone.

It's a Llama costume... I think our school mascot's name was Trevor, maybe. He compliments me on my choice of pyjamas, adding that the trains scattered all over the fabric go well with my personality. I don't know what that means, and I haven't seen those pyjamas since I was twelve.

Thick, mean storm clouds... ominous...

My mind feels strange and unreal as I walk back to my car. Ugh, I hate driving in the rain. Didn't I do all this already? The rain streaming down mercilessly on my body as I start running to the car, and the feeling of wrongness settling in the pit of my stomach feels somewhat familiar, like a strong case of Déjà vu.

The sound of thunder and the patter of heavy raindrops compete with the music coming from the car's radio. Wasn't I just running to my car?! I'm stuck in a traffic jam in the freaking rain on a Friday evening. Yay!

"Yes, yes... this is terrible news, Josh," the voice on the radio agrees, "you are all going to be late for the carnival."

Baffled, I blink at the radio and push my broken glasses up my nose. I can't see through them, and annoyed, I remove them and throw them on the seat next to me. Mom never got them fixed properly after Dad broke them when I was thirteen. I didn't realise that I still had them. I've been wearing contacts for years. Frowning, I move my hand to pick them up again.

Oh, wait... the traffic is moving forward a bit and, in the distance, I can see blurry, flashing lights, watery in the pouring rain. Flash... lightning flash... flashing; a hypnotic strobing rhythm to the beat of the rain against my windows. Oh, no! It looks like there might be an accident scene up ahead. I hope it's not bad. I hate seeing traffic accidents!

The cars move forward at a slow crawl, reminding me of a rollercoaster when the carts inch up and up... you get this dropping feeling in your stomach because you know what goes up must come down.

I'm hungry; I wonder if Izzie and Sam will mind if I stay for dinner. What am I even saying? They will want me to sleep over due to this terrible storm; I'll probably end up staying with them the entire weekend.

No, that's not what happened, is it?

As I get closer to the flashing lights, I realise that there really was a horrible accident, and my hands gripping the steering wheel are starting to tingle, and I'm suddenly gasping for breath.

I don't want to do this again... please...

Through the rain, I can see Sam's car lying on its side while emergency personnel are rushing around in a blur. I can hear their agitated voices, but I don't know what they're saying, and the lights on their vehicles flash red and blue, distorted by the rain streaming down my car's windows and the tears filling up my eyes as the message hits home.

Please... I don't want to see...

***

I wake up, gasping for air; the words 'please, not Sam' die unspoken on my lips. Confused, I look around me, panic pulling me up into a sitting position as I frantically try to untangle myself from my blankets.

My skin feels clammy, and my brain is still trying to dredge up images I wish I'd never seen and do not want to remember. I brush a hand through my hair, swallowing against the dryness in my throat.

"Daddy..."

Hearing the voice, I pause, a wave of relief and sadness washing over me as my brain starts to wake up properly. To my left, someone stirs under a bundle of blankets. I am Josh... I just woke up on the couch. This is Juniper Hill House, and I'm here with Izzie, and the little stirring bundle on the camper bed is Lucy, probably dreaming about Sam. I hope her dream isn't sad or scary. I hope her dream is better than the one I just had.

I take a deep breath... and another one, but I still feel like I'm going to vomit.

My blankets pull at me like an overexcited octopus, but I manage to escape from them and get to my feet. As quietly as I can, I slip past the girls to visit the bathroom, closing the door when I enter it. Bending over, I open the cabinet under the sink, freezing when a wave of nausea hits me. I wait for it to settle down again before I try to find my toiletry bag in the cabinet, my hands shaking so much I cannot get them to grasp anything properly.

I finally manage to retrieve the toiletry bag, but my legs decide that I need to be on the floor, giving out under me, letting me fall on my butt with a grunt.

"Ugh... stupid legs... stupid panic attacks."

Fighting another wave of nausea, I dig around in my bag until I find the bottle with the tiny, white pills. Pulling myself up is hard work, with my body misbehaving and my legs all wobbly, but at least there's a glass on the counter I can use to wash these beauties down with. I don't think that I would be able to make it to the kitchen.

I swallow the pills with water, look up into the mirror and smile. It is a terrible smile, not convincing at all; my lips are trembling, pulling my mouth all over my face. It is a demented smile, a smile that lacks discipline and needs to go for training... right now. For a few minutes, I use my hands to brace myself against the counter and obediently practice my best Josh-smile, until the trembling stops and my lips stay where I put them, and I finally start to feel better.

"Right," I say, smiling at my perfect Josh-smile. "Let's get on with our day."

***

Isabelle

I wake up with a start and see Josh walk past my bed in the direction of the bathroom. He is staggering around, his hair standing on end, looking like someone suffering from a hangover.

I have to fight the urge to jump out of bed and check on him, but I know that Josh likes space to deal with things on his own and will talk to me when he's ready to do so. I also have a skinny arm around my waist, keeping me in place.

Last night Lucy looked lost and nervous, and I suggested we push our beds together, which she quietly agreed to. Having her curled up against my back turned out to be the best medicine for my sleep-related monsters.

It's hard to get used to sleeping alone after sharing a bed with Sam for so many years. I don't think I will ever get used to it... I don't want to get used to it. That empty space which my Sam... my best friend, used to occupy... is now filled with grief I can't escape from.

I wipe a tear from my cheek. All day and all night, I wrestle not to think about Sam, but memories of him are relentlessly hijacking my thoughts every minute I'm awake and haunt my dreams when I'm asleep. There is no way to escape them.

Lucy pulls her arm away and turns over, still fast asleep. Well, that was nice while it lasted. There is no way I'll be able to fall asleep again, and Josh has been in the bathroom for a long time.

I'd better go make sure that the shower-drain ghost didn't get him.

***