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My mom sits beside me on the beach and throws her head back, enjoying the heat of the summer sun, a bored expression on her face. I draw my gaze from my book to the hordes of people trying to cool themselves from the summer heat. Everyone looks innocent enough as they walk by with their upscale clothes, shiny purses, and fake smiles. Sometimes, I make eye contact with someone, and I see through the facade. The glimmer in their eyes is something different— something sinister.

A guy in his late twenties walks by us and smiles at me as we make eye contact. It makes me shudder.

“He’s cute,” my mom offers, and I shoot her a glare.

“Mom… No.” I shake my head and glance down at my book.

After witnessing first-hand the depths of human depravity, I grapple with the idea of ever fully trusting anyone again. Beneath their seemingly innocent smiles lie their true psychotic selves. People terrify me now that I have witnessed their frightening transformation when they are pushed to their limits.

She bites her lips together and mouths an apology she thinks I can’t hear. She grabs my hand, and I flinch. She pulls away as if I’m a delicate flower. “I understand it’s hard right now,” she says softly, “but eventually, you will heal, honey. You will find someone else if you open your heart.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” I say with more emotion than I’ve expressed in months. “No one will ever replace Micah. He’s not someone you can just get over.”

I will settle… That is all I can do.

I let out a sigh, watching all the Californian muscled surfer guys, trying to imagine myself with any of them. One guy, with a similar build and frame to the twins, cruises by me on a longboard and trips, nearly falling as he rolls by us, checking me out.

I roll my eyes. If that were Micah, he never would have tripped. Mom’s forehead crinkles before she says, “Honey, he’s gone. And you’re so young and have your whole life ahead of you.” Those words eat at my soul.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like if I had stayed with Micah. With the others gone, we could have been at peace. It was the life Micah dreamed for us. If I had managed to find a way to confront the demons in my mind, would I have experienced more happiness if I had stayed the day I broke free from his chains?

I’m not sure I’m capable of the emotion, at least not in the way that indicates happiness is a destination. However, perhaps I have experienced true happiness, even if I didn’t recognize it at the time…

Twice.

After about an hour of sweltering in the sun on the beach, my mom shifts. I was just getting to the first kiss in my small-town romance book, and my stomach had started to swoon. Because, even after all I’ve been through, I still believe in true love.

“Come on, honey. I’m hungry. Let’s go get some lunch.”

We trail along the boardwalk and choose a cute coffee shop to stop and sit. The television is playing some soccer match in the background.

I order a half sandwich and a salad and sit near an open-air window. The television flashes on the wall beside me with no sound on. The server comes out and plops my food in front of me.

Hungry… So fucking hungry.

I rip my teeth into that sandwich as my stomach starts to eat itself. The sound of my mom’s breath hitching is the only reason I pause and notice a few people staring at me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hanging my head as heat blooms on my face. This happens every time I eat. For a fleeting moment, food is scarce, and I eat as if it’s my last chance. Usually, I can control it better, reminding myself to take careful, slow bites.

My mom frowns, her dark hair curled to her shoulders. “Don’t ever apologize for what you went through. I just wish there was something I could do to take your pain away.” There is only one thing that works to take my pain away. And unfortunately, Micah’s lips are in the Arctic, and bruising myself doesn’t seem to cut it.

A news alert goes off, and unsurprisingly, my face shows up. I let out a sigh…

I have become accustomed to seeing my face like that. It was one of those sensational stories that people will continue to follow for years. It’s always the same picture of me, disembarking from the rescue plane. I appear emaciated and haggard, and it always pains me to see it. The photo has gone viral, forever marking my existence. I’ve learned to cope with it by pretending it’s someone else.

Today, however, my face is short-lived on the screen, and it’s the person they cut to that has me nearly falling off my chair. A live reporter is on-air in the small airport of New Ocean, and a breaking national news banner is at the bottom of the screen.

Something is happening.

I jump up and call to the server. “Can you turn the volume up on the television, please?”

The entire restaurant is glued to the screen as breaking news on the New Ocean survivors is about to be released.

A stunning blonde reporter speaks to the camera, the entire world likely watching. I recognize her; she’s covered this story since it broke four months ago. She’s the poster child for the New Ocean survivors.

Her voice cuts into me like glass. “This is live. After months of search and speculation, they’ve found the last suspected survivor of the New Ocean tragedy. Micah Matei was officially pronounced dead after numerous attempts at search and rescue in the area. I’m not sure how he evaded them for so long, but we have just received word that he has finally been found.”

Or he allowed himself to be found.