Chapter 49: Chapter Forty-Eight

The words weren't processed into my head. I heard it, but my brain refused to acknowledge the fact that I heard it, so I just stared at Jonah in confusion as his face twisted into a kind of expression I had never once witnessed on his face.

There were tears falling down his face, and I struggled to understand why—until he repeated what he had just said in a much, much weaker voice.

"I was in the other car," he said—or blubbering, more accurately. "I've been thinking—trying to remember. I was driving and I saw—I saw your car, I saw it, I know now that it was yours, the timeline matched up and I—" his voice caught and a strange sound came from the back of his throat. It was like he was trying to gasp for air and throw up at the same time.

I felt like the world beneath me was crumbling. If I hadn't been sitting down on my bed, I would've fallen to the floor along with my heart. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I whispered in a scared, timid voice.

Jonah's hands were shaking as they tried to pull his hair out of his head. The sight pained me, but I was too busy trying to make sense of the words that came out of his mouth and I felt like pulling out my own hair.

He started to recite, the words coming out of him like they were being pulled by strings. Like he had no control of any of it. Like he was narrating a story that he'd memorized over and over again. He wouldn't meet my eye. "Twenty-fifth of November. We just moved here for less a month—I was mad like I had always been each time this had happened. My parents and my sister went out for Thanksgiving dinner because the house was still a mess and so many things were still packed in cardboard boxes. I skipped it, and they let me because there was nothing they could do to drag me out of my room.

"I stole my dad's car. My old neighbor used to give me lessons. Just driving up and down the street, never too far away, and he was always in the car with me. He knew it'd be a while before I could get my learner's permit but he said he wanted to prepare me for it. But that night I bailed family dinner and stole my dad's fucking car and I drove around like a mad man—I barely even know how to drive one without Mr. Denning guiding me and yet I sat on the driver's seat and had my hands on the wheels—"

"No." I covered my ears with the palms of my hands, trying to block out the words that just wouldn't stop coming out of his mouth as everything slowly registered in my brain. He was crying and I was crying and I didn't want to listen to any more of it. "No. No, stop it. Stop talking, Jonah, please—"

But he continued on as if he didn't hear me. As if he couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. "I was out of my mind. I didn't know what I was doing. I was angry and I just wanted to make my parents mad. They never got mad at me, even though I kept acting up whenever my mom's job made us move places. I knew sneaking out would make them mad," he kept going and going as I rocked back and forth on the bed with my ears covered with my hands. But I still could hear his voice loud and clear. "I was so high on the thrill of being on the wheels without anybody else keeping their eyes on me. I kept driving, and it was so late at night. My parents were probably already looking for me, but I didn't care. I don't even remember what happened but I remember seeing the car—your car, I know now. I remember hearing a crash and I think you screamed and sometimes I still could hear it when I close my eyes trying to sleep at night, but I didn't remember anything else because I ran... I ran... I drove away and didn't look back..."

"Please, Jonah. Stop talking!" I cried. "Please shut up."

The sound of my own cries finally drowned out his voice. He was talking, he was sobbing, he was pulling his hair out, but all I could hear was the sound of the crash and all I could see was the blinding light before it all went into complete darkness.

The chunk of memories I'd glimpsed from years of endless nightmares, and he was filling all the gaps with his own.

"It wasn't you. I know it wasn't, there's no way you—there's no way—" I sobbed and shook my head repeatedly. "Please tell me it wasn't you. How the hell—no, it couldn't have been you—"

"It was me," he said in a whisper, saying it with a heavy exhale as if he was letting out all the air from inside his lungs until there was nothing left. "I saw the pictures of your family and I saw that same car with you and your sister next to it. You saw my dad's car. The things you say you see in your nightmares. Empty dark road, tall trees, a bit of snow. The date matched. It's not just a coincidence. It was me."

I felt like I was drowning underwater, deep down where no one could reach out and pull me up. I couldn't breathe or think straight, and I felt like I was slowly dying. This was even worse than my nightmares. I couldn't wake up from this. And to think that it was him... it was because of him that this nightmare even happened...

"No. That can't be, Jonah. You're lying to me."

Jonah slowly stood up from the floor and approached the bed. "I won't lie to you about this. And I couldn't—wouldn't keep this from you. You need to know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His voice trembled as he reached up to touch my face.

But something inside me snapped and I pulled away, rejecting the heat underneath his skin and the apologies that kept flying out of his lips. He couldn't stop saying sorry and I was about to throw up.

"No. Don't touch me," I cut him off and he stopped with the most heart-wrenching look on his face. But it didn't compare with what I was feeling inside, with the pain I had been dealing with for these past years. He tried again but I screamed, "Stay away from me!"

He stood back up and stepped away, biting his lips so hard I wondered why it hadn't started to bleed. But then I thought about my own bleeding heart and how I had always thought he was the one who could wash my pain away when he actually was the one who drew the scar on the first place.

This couldn't be true. That couldn't have been what happened. I'd never seen his car, never seen him. I would've remembered him, if I'd seen him. But I'd also blacked out as soon as the car had crashed and I'd had nightmares about a thousand and one different scenarios of how the accident had happened while my parents had tried to protect me from the gruesome reality of it all and kept me in the dark ever since I'd woken up from the coma.

My brain fucking hurt and I couldn't breathe and I couldn't think and Jonah was back on his knees. Begging and crying and saying words I couldn't make sense.

"Please, Hannah, I'm sorry," he kept saying. "I don't—I can't begin to understand how much I've hurt you but I know that it's a lot, and I swear to god, I swear I will make it up to you for the rest of my life. Please forgive me, let me fix this. Tell me what to do, please. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

I loved him, but nothing was making sense. The accident had ruined me, nearly ruined my family, and took away the things I would never be sure I could get back. I'd always believed that he was a miracle in my life—falling in love with him in freshman year had made me forget the pain I was supposed to feel, about the sadness of being left behind and the fear of nearly being paralyzed for the rest of my life. Now, it ruined me to think how everything I had believed in was a lie.

He never saved me. He never did.

I shook my head and pushed him away from me. I cut off every word he was saying with a cry and I recoiled from his touch whenever he tried to pull me into him. I couldn't even see his face without feeling like the world had collapsed beneath me. I couldn't look at him without thinking about everything I had to go through. I couldn't be near him without hearing the sounds of the brakes and the tires against the slippery road and the loud crash that followed after.

He kept telling me about the guilt he had been feeling every single day of his life since that night, but how was that to compete with the physical and emotional rollercoaster I had go on up and down over and over again because of that night?

"—every day, every night I think about that person who was in the other car. When you first told me how you were in a car accident, I immediately thought about it, but I didn't want to believe it—" did he think I wanted to believe this too? Did he think I wanted to sit here with my heart bleeding out and watch him hold the bloody knife with both of his hands?

Why wouldn't Jonah stop talking? With every word he said, he was driving the knife into my chest and pulling it back out over and over again, sending hot searing pain through every inch of my body so bad I felt like I was going to die. I didn't want to hear his voice, I didn't want to see his face, I didn't want him here.

He kept begging for my forgiveness and asking me to give him a chance to make up to me for everything he had unknowingly put me through these past years. He said that if I loved him, then we could make it work. But when he said that he loved me too, I couldn't take it anymore.

"I wasn't alone in that car!" I told him, because I wanted him to feel more guilt. I wanted him to know that I wasn't the only one he had hurt by his fucking reckless decision. My heart ached and my head pounded and I felt like I wanted to die and I wanted him to feel that way too.

Jonah stopped talking, and I could see the blood slowly draining out of his face. Maybe he looked the way I had, when he'd first told me that he was driving the other car. And maybe he felt the same, like the earth beneath his feet had collapsed and the world around him was burning into ashes as he tried to make sense of what I was telling him.

My lips trembled as another wave of pain hit me like a tsunami. I didn't think I'd ever felt pain quite like this. I didn't think dying hurt as much as this.

I repeated, "I wasn't the only person in that car."

For a moment, I felt like I was drained out of energy, but I knew the explosions weren't over. All the anger and fear and confusion and grief I'd kept inside me, and I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I stood and went up to hit him on his chest, his shoulder, his jaw, and everywhere else I could pound my shaky fists on. He held both of my wrists, but the hold was loose, so I kept hitting him, hoping that it would hurt. I knew it couldn't have hurt. I had no energy left. My legs felt like jelly. My arms felt like they were no longer attached to my body. My hits might as well be light pats and he wasn't even trying to stop me, like he knew not to bother.

"You fucking asshole," I gasped, blowing a weak punch into his stomach. "You took him away from me! You did this. You did this to me."

At that, his grip on my wrist completely loosened and I threw a stronger hit into his jaw. His head whipped on impact, but he didn't do anything. He looked up and his eyes drifted toward my bedside table. The photo frame was no longer there, but he was staring at the space as if it still sat there. I knew he was connecting the dots. "I—he—is he—"

I collapsed to the floor, feeling empty and the only thing I could do was cry. I didn't even know how it was possible to waste this much tears, but apparently, it was. Jonah slowly crouched down, but I was too exhausted to push him away from me.

"He's gone and it's all your fault," I whimpered. I couldn't breathe, I was going to die. "You did this to me. You took him away from me. I hate you. I hate you, so much—"

I couldn't do anything when he shakily pulled me into his arms. He was repeating his apologies, and I kept on saying how much I hated him.

This was another nightmare. I was going to wake up and find out none of this had happened. Just a nightmare.

"I hate you. Just leave me alone," I tried to snap at him, but I ended up sounding like a whining dog. I hated it. I hated him.

I just wished everything would stop. Maybe it would've been better if I'd died that night. Then I wouldn't have fallen in love with him and I wouldn't be feeling this pain right now.

With a weak push, I drew away from his arms. "Get out of my house," I told him, all the fight in me fading away as I looked into his eyes. "Get out. I don't want to see you again."

His face crumpled horribly and it took my breath away from me. "Hannah—"

"Get out of my house!" I yelled, before breaking into one last cry. "Just go away. Go away."

He bit his quivering lip, but he nodded. "Alright," he whispered. "Alright. I'll go. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'll go." He stood up, and my tired eyes followed as he looked over his shoulder before opening the door. "I didn't mean to—" he swallowed. "I love you. I'm sorry, Hannah."

Hearing it only made everything inside me break. I rolled up into a ball, right there on the cold floor as I cried until I didn't have enough energy to open my eyes anymore. For the first time, I wished I could fall asleep so I could at least get away from the pain, but even the huge tidal wave of exhaustion couldn't make my brain shut up. My eyes stayed shut as the tears on my face dried up, but voices in my head wouldn't stop coming and I felt like I was going crazy.

My brain was reeling as I tried to process everything. I laid out all of the facts, everything I remembered from my Swiss cheese memory of that night and everything Jonah had told me. A car had crashed into my car four years ago. Jonah was in that car. He was the one who had hit my car.

That was what happened. He'd told me so. He'd crashed into my car. He'd driven the car that had slammed into mine. He'd said so. He'd crashed into my car and then he... then he'd driven off. Leaving me there to die. That was what he did.

There wasn't a word to describe the confusion and agony that mixed up inside my chest. I felt like my world had been turned upside down. I couldn't believe that out of everyone in this stupid town, it had to be Jonah who was in that car. Why did it have to be him?

I didn't know how long I stayed there, but eventually, I pushed myself off the floor and ignored the wobbling in my legs as I dragged myself toward my bed. I collapsed with a thud, face down into my pillows.

I wish there was a way to erase everything that had happened. I wish I could turn back time and make sure that we never crossed path until the first day of high school. I loved Jonah, I really did, but how was I supposed to love him now?

I put a hand against my chest, feeling the painful beating of my heart against my ribcage. I didn't know what to do to make the pain stop. When would it end? I didn't know. Everything hurt—that was all I knew.

There was a single unread message on my phone when I checked it. It was from Jonah, sent not even five minutes ago, simply saying, "I'm sorry."

But sorry wouldn't change the fact that that night four years ago had happened. Sorry wouldn't turn back time. How would I even begin to forgive him?

I laid on bed, staring up at the ceiling as Daisy's cries broke through the silence. It made me sad to think of her and everything that had happened. I didn't want to think about how Jonah had named her Daisy because it was my favorite flower.

I didn't want to think about him anymore.

I twirled the phone in my hand, my thumb pausing just an inch away from a number I occasionally called just to hear the voice I hadn't heard for so long, until I gave in and dialed the number. The voice played again when the call went into voicemail, and as usual, I spent the first five seconds with tears in my eyes.

"I know what happened that night," I croaked out. "Tony, now I know what happened," I repeated, feeling a sob break through my chest.

The doll's cries faded away, and I turned off my phone. Shoved it under my pillow as I sunk deeper into the bed, shaking. My eyes drifted to catch the blanket on the floor where Jonah had slept not even a day ago, and the ache in my chest intensified. I shook my head and forced myself to get up from the bed, and that was when I heard a silent cry outside my door.

I opened it and found Little Ant with his paws mid-air as if he had been clawing against the door. I picked him up and he meowed, looking relieved that I had let him inside. "Sorry, buddy," I murmured at my baby kitten. "I didn't mean to lock you out."

He looked like he was nodding at me before meowing again. I went back to my bed and lie down, letting him jump all over the bed to pick a comfortable spot to sleep on. While he was probing the bed with his little paws, I reached over and opened my bedside drawer to pick up the only picture I had left of us, the one from the picture frame I'd broken earlier.

My mom had probably locked the rest of his photographs in her room. There was nearly nothing left of him I could hold on to, and this was one of the few things I could save. I remembered how much I begged them to let me keep this.

I remembered it was taken just a few months before the accident. There was a small smile on his face while on mine was a way bigger one as I had both of my arms circled around his torso. I missed him, I missed his smile, and I missed the bear hugs he always generously gave me whenever I needed it.

And I needed it now, more than ever. How could he just left me like that? None of this was making sense.

I didn't realize I was crying again until Ant gently poked my face with one of his paws. I looked down and saw his big eyes blinking at me, and I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

"I'm fine, Little Ant," I told him. "I'm just a little bit sad."

He meowed and snuggled into my neck, and I sighed when it started to tickle. I sat up and went to put the picture back on the drawer, but I paused when I saw the small, barely readable handwriting on the back of the photo once I flipped it over to read the faded scrawl.

My heartbeat started to pick up when I realized what the words written there actually meant. Those words were written in the corner of the photo, and I wondered how I had looked over it all those times before. Could this be what I thought it was? My brain whirred with thoughts and the beating of my heart nearly exceeded its limits when I finally came up with a sudden, spur-of-the-moment decision.

I stood up and with shaky hands, I grabbed my phone and dialed the number that never picked up. I listened to his voice until I heard the beep as I went toward my closet to pack some of my clothes into my backpack in a haste, trying to move as quick as possible as if time was running out. Ant meowed as he followed me with his little feet and rubbed his head against my leg.

"I found your message," I said into the phone in a hurried voice. "I'm so sorry it'd taken so long for me to see it. I didn't realize. But I'm going now, okay? I'll see you soon."

[]

I parked a few houses away from Jonah's house, ignoring the ache that started to seep into my chest. I looked over my shoulder too see the Jonah's car in his driveway behind and took a deep breath. Little Ant, the sleepy little kitten that he was, was soundly sleeping inside his small carrier on the passenger's seat while the doll was laid there on the backseat because my mom's car didn't have a baby seat.

It had taken me thirty minutes to finally start up the car and pulled away from the driveway. My hands had been shaking with fear when I placed them on the steering wheel, but I forced myself to push the thoughts about the accident away for a while. I had to do this.

I'd left a note for my parents on the kitchen counter, saying that I was going away and would probably be back in a few days and that they had nothing to worry about, but I wasn't even sure myself if everything would be alright.

This was the first time driving alone since I took the driving test—I never drove another car after that, even after I received my license because I always freaked out whenever I was in the driver's seat. Being in the car while someone else was driving was fine, but not when I was the one holding the responsibility of my and everyone else's safety. During the first few driving lessons that I had taken last year, I could barely even keep myself from throwing up as the flashes of the accident came back. I had thrown up the moment I stepped out of the car after my first driving lesson.

And now that I was going on an approximately three-hour-drive to a place I had never traveled to before, in a messed-up state of mind with countless layers of exhaustion enveloping me, one might think I was a crazy motherfucker.

I probably was.

I laughed grimly to myself. Knowing my track record... there was a chance I wouldn't make it back with all parts of the car still attached.

But I couldn't just stay inside the house crying about Jonah and thinking about the accident. I needed to do something else to keep myself from crying again. My parents were away and Mom left her car keys knowing that I'd never drive another car in my lifetime. I knew I had to do this before my parents came back in a few hours, and a three-hour-drive to the mysterious address when I could even barely hold my shit together driving a car seemed worth it.

I got out of the car and went to carry Daisy in one arm and hold the carrier with my other hand. I didn't bother locking the car as I silently approached the front porch and put both the carrier and Daisy down right next to her supplies bag. The house was silent and my heart jumped as I expected anyone to jump out of the bush next to me, but it was barely five in the morning and everyone was probably asleep inside.

I didn't know about Jonah, though. Was he soundly asleep after what happened last night? Was he awake, and filled with guilt? His car was there in the driveway so I knew he wasn't out in his hideaway place. He was inside, upstairs, and I didn't know what to think of that.

I didn't know what to think of anything. That was how I ended up here.

I crouched down and whispered to Ant inside the carrier, "Be a good boy, alright?" He blinked his eyes at the sound of my voice. "I'll see you in probably a few days. If I make it back. Pray for me."

I looked at Daisy and how this was our last weekend with her before we had to return her to Mr. Herberg. I had planned to go out with her along with Jonah today to have fun, but we couldn't do it now. I didn't think I could ever look at his face again. A part of me felt sad and I knew that I was going to miss her, but the other part of me was glad that the project would be over soon.

I backed away and pulled up the hood of my jacket. I took my phone out and hesitated before sending a text to him.

Come to the front door. Keep an eye on them for a few days, please. I need to take care of something.

My phone buzzed not even a minute after I sent the message. Jonah was awake, and when I looked up at his window, the lights were suddenly turned on. I quickened my pace toward my car and I was two yards away when I heard his front door open.

"Hannah?" he rasped out, but I ignored him. I full-on ran and went inside the car without a pause, but he easily ran to catch up with his long strides. "Hannah, wait. Are you okay? Where the hell are you going?"

I was panicking as his voice got even closer, and I almost dropped the keys when I started the car. His face appeared and he put his palms on my window to stop me, and I nearly screamed in surprise. I fumbled with the seatbelt before immediately driving away, leaving him in the break of dawn, calling out my name and probably waking up the whole neighborhood.

Lord Almighty. I was a fucking mess.

I looked at the rearview mirror and saw him standing in the middle of the road, but I was too far away to see the exact expression on his face.

My mixed-up feelings almost made me want to turn around and come back to him, tell him that I could try and forgive him.

But then I heard the sound of the crash again in the back of my mind and how much it had taken me until I finally could stand up on my two feet again—and so I pushed harder on the accelerator and I was gone.

Hopefully, I still remembered shit about driving.