The room around me was dark, save for the digital clock on my bedside table. A quick glance told me it was only three in the morning. I'd barely slept for three hours. My body was still sore and exhaustion still tugged at every part of me.

Part of me wanted to settle back down into bed and try to get some more sleep. But I didn't want to have more strange dreams. Thankfully, the screams hadn't haunted me, but the strange conversation hadn't calmed me either.

I stood from the bed, needing to do something. Turning on the bedside lamp, I looked around the room for the first time. Ms. Rose had left me quickly after unlocking the room and handing me a small key decorated with the school crest.

A desk was on one wall of the room, with a desktop computer. A welcome booklet sat next to the keyboard, but I didn't have the energy to flip through it.

There were two doors beside the one I'd entered through. The first door was a closet, which was half-full of blazers in a few colors, each emblazoned with the school crest. White shirts, devoid of wrinkles, hung next to the blazers.

A suitcase sat on the floor, but I ignored it for now. Too many memories of my mother crashed to the surface when I looked at it.

Outside of the closet, I had a single dresser, which I assumed would hold the pants for my uniforms. Opening the other door, I found myself entering a bathroom. Thankfully, there was no other door leading into it, meaning it was private. The thought of sharing a bathroom with a random stranger made me feel weird.

There was a large bathtub with a shower head, which I was also grateful for. My hand brushed against the shower curtain, which was a solid blue. Some dirt still clung underneath my nails and I realized that my hair still stank of smoke from the bonfire.

At the thought of the bonfire, nausea swirled through me.

A shower sounded nice, I decided quickly. I rummaged through the dresser and found a set of clothes that weren't a school uniform and some undergarments before heading back into the bathroom and stripped off my borrowed clothes.

The logo for the Halifax police station seemed to mock me as I tossed the clothes into a pile on the bathroom floor.

Turning my thoughts away from the police station, I stepped into the shower. The hot water that poured out of the shower head was like Heaven. It soothed my aching muscles. But as I washed away all the traces of dirt and grime, I could feel pieces of me breaking away. Even when I was devoid of any traces of the night of the bonfire, I still felt unclean.

One night forever changed my life, and it was a night I couldn't even remember. Why couldn't I remember?

My thoughts shifted back to the police station.

"This is serious, Selene. Two teenagers are dead. And we found you, alone in the woods, blood on your hands."

"Who is dead?" I'd asked her the detective with a shaking voice.

Detective Brennan reached for a manila folder that had sat in front of her the entire time. She flipped it open and pulled out an image. She sat it in front of me, her eyes focused on mine. "See for yourself."

A blonde girl, her hair fanned around her in a halo of blonde. Leaves and twigs were tangled in the strands. Her blue eyes were lifeless and empty, staring up at the camera. Blood soaked her yellow bikini top and wounds were streaked across the tanned skin of her stomach.

My stomach roiled and I shoved the photo away as I swallowed the vomit that threatened to rise.

"Her name is Samantha Harris," Detective Brennan told me. "And you killed her."

I felt the hole open in my chest again and I sank to the floor of the shower and cried. I cried for Samantha, the girl I couldn't remember. The girl left dead in the woods. But Samantha's hadn't been the only body they'd found in the woods that night.

"I didn't kill her!" I gasped out, horrified. How could someone think I'd done that to a person?

Detective Brennan said nothing as she took the photo of Samantha away in favor of another. I was wary as I pulled it closer to examine it.

The boy was barely recognizable under the burns that marred his flesh. Half of his body had been charred and ruined, leaving half a face and a familiar space-themed T-shirt. Oliver. His mouth was opened in a silent scream, as if the flames were still devouring him whole.

"Tell me why you killed them."

I cried for Oliver. He hadn't even wanted to leave the car the night of the bonfire. He hadn't wanted to go at all, actually. But Vincent had said I couldn't attend unless Oliver went with me. So I'd begged and pleaded until he'd finally relented and agreed to go.

And now he was dead.

My mother had been right about one thing. Oliver's death was my fault. If I'd never convinced him to go, he would still be alive right now.

I wasn't sure how much time I'd spent in the shower. By the time the tears stopped, there was nothing left in me to cry and the water had long gone cold. My skin was freezing and wrinkled, but I was beyond numb.

Turning off the water, I stood before wrapping the towel around myself and stepping out.

My shower had filled the bathroom with steam, clouding the mirror over the sink. I brushed away the steam and looked at my blurry reflection. There were dark bags under my eyes, which hadn't been helped by the small amount of sleep I'd gotten. My skin was paler than normal, which only added to my overall ghastly look.

Turning away from the mirror, I dug around in the cabinet until I found a toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash.

Once I was done in the bathroom, I headed back into the bedroom. After crawling into bed, I grabbed my phone. I hadn't gotten any messages from anyone since leaving Halifax. Not even Hanna, my best friend. We'd attended the bonfire together, but at some point, we'd been separated.

I chewed my bottom lip nervously, staring at the home screen. Would Hanna be mad that I was gone? Would she miss me? Or would she shun me like my mother? Rumors spread like wildfire in my small hometown. She'd no doubt heard I'd been questioned by the police.

I knew Hanna had told the police I'd vanished in the crowd at the bonfire and she hadn't been able to find me again. But I still wasn't sure why I had no missed calls or texts from her. Why didn't she try to text or call me that night? If I'd been missing and she'd been looking for me, that made little sense.

I clicked on my message app and then the thread with Hanna. I thought about what to say to her. Did she know my parents had banished me? Did I just start by apologizing to her? She must be furious with me after being taken in for questioning by the police.

Hey, I'm sorry about the bonfire. I don't know what happened. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating on the send button.

But I steeled my nerves and sent the message, then went to a different message thread. The one with my mom. I wasn't sure what to say here either. Would she even want to hear from me?

Before I thought of a message to send, there was a reply from Hanna. Who is this?

Confused, I replied, It's Selene.

The three little dots that appeared gave me anxiety. After a few minutes, the reply came and my heart sank. Hilarious. Don't text this number again.

I'm not joking. This is Selene, I typed back. Did my mom tell her she'd sent me away? Did she also think that meant I wouldn't have my phone? Or did she just not want to talk to me and this was her way of avoiding me?

A message popped back up, but it wasn't from Hanna. The message failed to send. You cannot reply to this person.

Hurt flooded through me. Hanna had blocked me. I guess my mother wasn't the only person who was ashamed of me. Then again, it had been Hanna the police had dragged into the station, not my mother. If anyone was allowed to be angry, I supposed it was Hanna.

Feeling disappointed, I switched to the thread with my mom and typed her a message as well. I made it to the Academy. Thought you'd want to know. Love you.

The reply was instant. Message failed to send, number not found.

My throat burned, and my eyes blurred with tears. I threw the phone down on the bedside table, not caring if it broke. My mom had shut down her number and gotten a new one, so I couldn't contact her. She had been serious when she'd said I was no longer her daughter. But I just didn't understand why.

I curled into a ball on the bed, just letting more tears fall. I wasn't sure how I still had anything left in me to cry, but I let the tears and the snot come until I finally fell into an emotionally exhausted sleep.