We are matching tragedies.
My thoughts fly to the vision I’ve been replaying for weeks now. Griffin is going to die. Not me. Griffin. But… Maybe I die next? I never considered it as an option. If someone hurts him, and he dies…well, that’s where my vision ended. But what if it’s my ending, too? What if my death follows right behind his?
“Just tell me what’s going on,” he says, his tone serious. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me. If I know what it is, I can help you.”
“You don’t need to be involved anymore. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He opens his arms, fingers spread wide. “How are you so convinced I’m going to get hurt because of you? Also, what exactly am I involved in?” He inches away and runs a frustrated hand down his face. “I don’t know what you want from me. You’re constantly blowing me off, not telling me things, and hell, you’ve spent more time with Jack in the past two weeks than you have with me. Are you just keeping me around to fill up your boredom?”
My chest squeezes, and my words come out in a whisper. “You don’t really think that, do you?”
“If not that, tell me what you want me to think.”
I swallow, steadying my breath. “You might not believe me if I tell you everything.”
“You’re never going to know if you don’t try. If you want to be friends, I need you to tell me everything. Even if you think it’s something I don’t want to hear. Tell me the truth, Quinn.”
He does deserve the truth, despite Grandma’s warning. If I had known years ago that I was never going to see my mother or father again…well, I could’ve at least said goodbye. I could’ve had some type of closure.
What if I tell Griffin the truth and that’s the thing that saves his life—the one thing I swore I’d never do? I’ve never tried telling anyone else the truth before. If he has some warning, maybe he can save his own life…
“I’m cursed.”
His frown increases.
“Okay, that came out wrong. I mean, I am. But…” My voice shakes, and I clasp my hands together as if it’s the only thing holding my body upright. “I have these visions when I meet someone new. When I met you, I saw the way everything would end for us.” Each word feels wrong and weird against my tongue, like I am making up some horrendous lie. Griffin inches closer, jaw setting tight. I can’t decipher what his expression means, so I keep going. “I’ve never told anyone about this curse. Except my grandma. Not anyone. I’m sure it’s hard to believe, which is one of the reasons I was never going to tell you.”
“Hold on.” He scratches the side of his head, eyebrows still pinched together. “You’re saying you had a vision when we met? Of-of what? Our end?”
“Yes,” I whisper hoarsely. All my pieces have finally cracked. “You… You’re going to die in the rain. From a gunshot wound, bleeding out from the chest. In the middle of the grass. In my…” I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them wide, forcing the remaining words out. “In my arms. I’ve known this since the first time you touched me, and…I’ve been trying to figure out a way to save you. Everything I’ve done, it’s been only to save you. You believe me, don’t you?”
Griffin’s face shifts into a confused look of worry. Like he doesn’t know what to make of my story. He wants to be angry and yet, something is pulling him in another direction.
“That’s what you’ve been hiding from me? Your secret visions?” he whispers.
“I wanted to tell you everything, but I thought I could solve it all on my own. I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.” I inhale a shaky breath, counting my heartbeats until I lose track of the number.
He shifts his jaw; tension still lingers in his stance and shoulders and at the pull of his eyebrows. He’s not looking at me. “Are you really so desperate to push me away that you’ll say anything?”
Wait. No. “What?”
“I thought we were on the same page here. I thought you were going to tell me the truth. Guess I was wrong.” He turns, running a hand through his hair.
Should I have told him sooner? Would he have believed my words if I’d said them before the brick sent everything spiraling out of control?
Oh God. I thought pushing him away was the best option—the only option. I never considered the truth because of what Grandma Ruth believed. But if I’m being honest, if the roles were reversed and Griffin knew I was fated to die, I’d absolutely want him to tell me! Who wants to live in ignorant bliss? I’d much rather be aware of my death, because then at least I could act on it. I could do everything in my power to change it. I’d stolen that right from Griffin.
I lick my dry lips. “I know this is hard to understand.”
“Hard to understand?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “How about impossible? You’re telling me you know how I’m going to die.” His voice is rough, pained. “If you want me out of your life so bad, there are simpler ways to do it.”
“Griffin, it’s not—”
“I need you to go.”
My heart bottoms out, and my lungs constrict. “Please. Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” He stomps to the front door. “I’ve told you everything about my life, everything, and you wait for weeks to mention your so-called curse? Did it just take you that long to come up with an excuse?” Griffin opens the door without glancing my way.
I stand, my feet like cement blocks attached to the floor. What can I say to get him to understand?
“Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”
Inspecting the hard, angry lines on his face, I know the answer to my question: nothing.
…
That was it—my last chance at changing the future. He’ll likely never talk to me again, and I’ll never be able to save him. As I tread to my bedroom, any remaining inkling of hope fades away. There’s nothing left for me to do, nothing left for me to try.
The future will come, and despite all my efforts he might still die, and worse yet, he’ll die hating me.
Sometime later, I’m folding my mom’s dress neatly, preparing it to go back into the box. I stop when I hear a curious crinkling, like the sound of paper. Unfolding the dress, I shove my hands down the front and feel an extra seam I didn’t notice before. No, it’s a pocket. Covered by a seamless zipper. What girl doesn’t love a dress with pockets? I slide my fingers into the pocket, just to see if Mom left anything in there—a mint, maybe. My fingers land on a piece of folded paper, and I pull it out, curious. Unfolding the lined sheet of paper, I spot my mom’s handwriting. I figure it’s an old grocery list—until I see my name at the top. It’s a letter addressed to me. She…left this for me?
My heart skips, but I waste no time wondering before I read.
I never imagined having to write these words. It saddens me to a depth I could never express. Not with a hundred letters, or one thousand. By the time you’re given this letter, I won’t be around, but there are certain things you must know. I’m eternally sorry for lying to you for all those years about the true nature of our curse. I never wanted you to know the truth for fear it would cause you even more pain. You must know there was no other choice, and our sacrifice was, in fact, necessary.
We love you. So much. Don’t ever forget that.
Mom
Confusion turns to annoyance and doubt. Mom wrote me this letter—but it never made it past her pocket. What truth is she talking about? Can there be anything more horrific than what I’ve already experienced? What sacrifice? My parents died in a car wreck; they didn’t sacrifice themselves.
I become a statue. I don’t want any of it to be true, but it has to be. My mom wouldn’t have written this otherwise.
Unanswered questions invade my thoughts like too many browser tabs being opened in my head. But thankfully, these questions have answers; it’s just a matter of asking.
>
Grandma has a lot of explaining to do.
Chapter Twenty-Three
My pulse is still racing when I find Grandma sitting at the dining room table, reading a book and drinking hot tea.
“Quinn, dear, what’s wrong?”
“Explain this.” I drop the paper on the table in front of her, my hands shaking.
“What—”
“Just read it.”
After a hesitation, she does. It doesn’t take long for her worried expression to morph into something stronger than shock. Her face pales as she stands. Lifting one hand, her lips move, but no words come out. I expect her to shut this conversation down, to argue that this note isn’t important.
Instead, she mutters, “Oh, Quinn. Please forgive me.”
“Forgive—what are you talking about? What does any of this mean?” I wave the note in the air. “Tell me what she meant. Please. Why did Mom write this—and why did I never see it?” So many questions. I want all of the answers now, even if I know that’s impossible.
Grandma Ruth, still ghostly pale, inches toward me. She shakes her head and covers her mouth, looking undeniably…defeated. “When you asked me if I’d ever seen something so horrific in a vision, I—well, not me, but your mother did.”
“She saw someone die too?”
“Months before your parents’ accident, your mother knew they were going to die.”
The air is sucked right out of the room at her response. “What?” My voice barely comes out.
“The truth she’s referring to, it’s about her curse. You see endings, but your mom saw choices.”
Grandma’s gaze wavers. “She could never predict the weather, like we always told you. Your mother, she would have these dreams, and these dreams would show her…two futures. One would become real, but both could not exist at the same time. If one existed, the other couldn’t. She was forced to choose.”
My throat feels swollen, and it takes me long moments to find my words. “Choose? What could be worse than dying?”
She grabs my hand, but I flinch and yank it away. “Please, Quinn.”
“Tell me!”
“If your parents had avoided that trip and therefore the accident, you would have died instead.”
My blood goes cold. I don’t move. I don’t blink. I don’t breathe.
Grandma continues. “Your mother would never tell me everything she saw in her dream, but I knew it frightened her. Frightened her to the bone. She always said there was no point in talking about the alternative vision when she would never let that happen.”
“She… They died in that crash so I could…”
“So you could live.”
I swallow thickly, shaking my head. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? How could you keep this from me?”
“I had no idea your mother had drafted that letter. Honestly. I did intend to tell you. One day. But I, like your mother, didn’t want you to be burdened. If I’m being honest, I selfishly hoped you would never know.”
“Wait, does that mean she changed fate—that I can change fate?”
“Sweetheart, no.” She closes the distance between us and grabs my hands. “Her curse gave her two options, but yours unfortunately gives you none. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“What do you mean, why would you lose me?” As I finish the question, I realize the answer. “You were worried I’d sacrifice myself to change my vision?”
She smiles faintly. “You are so much like your mother. When we talked about your vision before, it was then that I recognized the panicked look in your eye for what it was. True fear of a future you’d give anything to change, even if it meant giving your life.”
I’m numb aside from the thunder inside my chest. I feel my broken heart cracking into so many pieces—just like that damned guitar. “That whole time…you spent that entire conversation telling me to accept fate and move on, all yadda yadda.”
The hard lines on her face say it all. “It’s not that simple.”
Without warning, tears collect in my eyes. I lay a hand against my chest. Breathe in. And out. In. And out. My breaths stay ragged and raw.
“I need to go,” I say, turning toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Grandma calls, her voice laced with concern. But her concern comes too late. I’m too pissed to listen to any more right now.
“I need air.”
The night air feels nice, but it doesn’t slow my pulse or unravel my nerves. Could that be the real connection behind this family curse—a chance to sacrifice yourself to save someone else you love? Is that the whole…point?
I consider the one possibility I don’t want to be true: maybe there was never, ever anything I could’ve done.
Days pass and I don’t hear from Griffin. As much as I want to send him an apology text, I resist, knowing it’s the right move. I ruined everything we had; he doesn’t want to hear from me.
As I’m lying on my bed, doing absolutely nothing aside from overthinking, the phone rings. I secretly—stupidly—hope it’s Griffin, but the first thing I hear is Olivia’s cracked sob on the other end. Then she says, “Quinn, I…he…” More sobs she’s obviously trying to stifle.
I sit, leaning against my pillows. “What’s wrong?” Anxiety fills my veins, because Olivia is not the crying type. It takes a serious catastrophe for her to burst into tears. She can’t even pull off fake tears all that well.
“He…” She takes a huge breath before maintaining enough composure to speak. “Jack left me. He—he…broke up with me.”
On the other end of the line, she falls into heavy sobs again, this time making no attempt at hiding them.
“Wait, what?” I press the phone firmer against my ear. “Seriously?”
“Yeess. I don’t understand what I did wrong. He just left me.” The last word is drawn out long and painfully. Olivia takes a deep inhale then lets it out. “He said…all these…awful things. Awful things. But why? Quinn, what did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, Liv. He’s clearly a flipping jackass.”
“Can I come over? Both my parents are here, and I don’t want to explain why I’m crying if I can avoid it… I think I can sneak out of here without them seeing me.”
I nod, even though she can’t see it. “Sure. Come over.”
She agrees, and we hang up, my heart wrenching for her. I’ve never been good with advice on guys. Whether it’s about how to approach one, or how to accept when one broke up with you. Since I’ve always seen my end coming, the shock has worn off over the past few years. Sure, my heart still felt broken in half twice, but Olivia had no clue this was coming. She didn’t know her “fabulous” relationship would end like this.
A little while later, Olivia walks through my bedroom door, crying, sniffling, and wiping at her face with the back of her palms. When she sees me, I stand and envelop her in a giant hug that lasts for minutes.
We both take a spot on my bed. Olivia brushes her braids away from her face, but they fall right back. Her eyes are puffy and dark, and her chest heaves up and down with heavy breaths.
“Liv…” I start. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head, lowering it. “I don’t know, he… We were arguing about the cemetery thing. He claimed he didn’t know about your parents. When I told him he still should’ve let us know where we were going because how would he feel if he was dragged to the cemetery where his parents were buried without notice?” Olivia raises her gaze, staring at my desk chair. “That’s when he…when…”
I pat the spot beside me, motioning for her to cozy up next to me against the pillows. She shifts, and her hair moves, exposing a large red spot on her left cheek. “That’s when he hit me.”
My heart plummets. “Was that the first time?”
She rolls her eyes at me—a good sign that she’s
feeling better. “Yes. I didn’t think he would ever…do that. God, I’m so stupid. How did I not see it coming?”
I wrap my arm around her back, pulling her against me for a side hug. “No one ever thinks someone will do that. And you’re not stupid. You never could’ve seen it coming. I’m glad it was only once. I’m glad you’re okay.”
As I console my best friend, I remember all my interactions with Jack. Sure, he seemed off at times, but I never pegged him for violent.
Olivia leans her head against mine and sighs. “But he was so sweet… He was…”
“A liar.”
Her half laugh crackles. “Yeah.”
“And a very good actor.”
“Better than me, apparently.”
“No way.” I shake her lightly. “He’s an asshat. You have acting skills.” The faintest hint of a smile graces her lips, and my stress level drops, like I’ve lost a good twenty pounds of baggage. “As you would say, he’s just a guy.”
My phone beeps with a text. I ignore it until it goes off two more times. I swipe it from my bedside table and see three texts, all from Jack.
“Why is he texting me?” I say, opening the messages.
Olivia peeks at the phone. Wiping underneath her eyes, she mumbles, “Probably because I won’t answer his calls or texts.”
Jack: Is Liv with you?
Jack: Tell her I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her. It was an accident.
Jack: Please tell her I’m sorry.
“Geez,” I say. “Has he always been like this?”
“No. Like I told you, he was sweet and dreamy. He was perfect. I don’t know what happened. It’s like he just…snapped. I never would’ve imagined him putting a cruel hand on me.”
My phone goes off again, and I’m hesitant to look at it, but I do.
Jack: Can we please talk? I don’t want things to end like this.
Oh, yeah, we definitely need to talk.
Me: I’m coming over.
To Whatever End Page 18