The corner store is just as she left it; quiet and covered in signs. The street is empty, save a few cars that pass occasionally, but Jaslene is the only person around and that’s what she wants.

She doesn't go into the store. There’s no point, when all it does is serve as a mark in her memory. She makes sure not to look at the missing person post. She makes sure not to wonder what it would look like with her name on it instead.

A cold wind whips past her. Jaslene pulls her beanie down over her ears a little more and stuffs her hands into her pockets, then forces her gaze away from the store and starts walking again. Something cold twists in her stomach, knots upon knots upon knots of nerves that have Jaslene grinding her teeth.

There’s an overwhelming feeling that something is wrong, a feeling that hasn’t left her since she woke up two days ago.

The thing with this feeling is that it’s not anxiety making a big deal out of nothing. It’s knowing that something is wrong. It’s knowing that she’s  what’s wrong.

Jaslene should be dead. Jaslene is dead. But she walks anyways, plastering on bandages and smiles and making sure not to step on the cracks in the sidewalk.

She keeps her eyes on the ground, walking faster like it’ll help her leave all these thoughts behind. She scowls and hunches her shoulders in a little more. The sun shines brightly, and Jaslene wishes that life was more like a movie and that rain would drown her on the walk back home.

Sure, she’s basically a zombie, but apparently that’s not enough for the universe to give her the cinematography that she deserves.

And then Jaslene runs into someone just as she turns the corner, and sends them both sprawling onto the ground. The impact is rough against her hands, the sharpest feeling she’s experienced since she’s woken up dead, and Jaslene wants so drag her hands along the rough concrete until they bleed just to feel it again.

“Shit,” someone swears, and Jaslene’s attention is wretched back to the person she knocked down.

“Shit,” she echoes. She knows him. Or rather, she knows of him. “Sorry,” Jaslene says, slowly standing up and brushing off her pants, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

She offers him a hand. He takes it, hand large enough to swallow hers whole, and lets her pull him up. He doesn’t look at her for a long moment, taking the time to brush himself off as well. Jaslene can’t help but stare; in the stats class they shared, he was always the most put together student, dressed to impress and carelessly elegant in all his movement. Now, there are deep bruised under his eyes, visible despite his dark skin, his hairs too much of a mess to be properly tied back, and he’s wearing a sweatshirt she distantly recognizes.

“...Jude?” she asks, hoping she got his name right, “What are you doing out here?”

He looks up and finally looks at her. He observes Jaslene for a second, then narrows his eyes into a glare. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Felt pretty sick this morning,” Jaslene shrugs, “I’m feeling a bit better now so I decided to take a walk to pass the time.” The lie slips off her tongue, smooth as water. She’s never liked lying, but considering the alternative was to grab Jude’s shoulders and shake him while raving about looking for where she died, a little lie wasn’t going to hurt.

Jude sighs and ducks his head down again, raising a hand to run it through his hair. “I just didn’t feel like going to school today is all,” he says. Though she relates, there’s really nothing Jaslene can say to that, so she bites her tongue and stays silent. Jude glances up at her. “Too many people stare. Ask me about Matthew. Some people think I killed him, can you believe that?”

The laugh he lets out is bitter, but Jaslene ignores it over the realization that she completely forgot that Jude was dating Matthew. Had been since freshman year.

“Shit, I forgot that you were dating!”

“We were dating for three years, there’s a reason the police were so suspicious. And it’s only partially because I’m black.”

Jaslene sucks in a sharp breath. “I did not even think of that. God all that questioning must have been awful for you.”

“Still is. It’s why I’m skipping school today.”

Jaslene nods, looking away from him. “Right, right. Um, sorry for running into you, though. I’ll just let you go now.”

“See you.” Jude leaves without another word. Doesn’t look back, doesn’t look up, just walks away clutching onto his sweatshirt like it’s the only thing keeping him from drifting away. Jaslene watches him go, feeling something in her ache with sympathy. The image of a Jude without Matthew ingrained itself onto her mind, but it wasn’t just Jude; it Jake and Deija and Tomàs. It was her mom, her dad, her little sister. It was all the people Jaslene loves who would lose her.

And Aya. It was Aya, with her bright smile and full body laugh. It was Aya, with her thin fingers and light footsteps. It was Aya, with her determination and competitiveness. It was Aya, with her gentleness and her strength.

It was Aya, the girl Jaslene loved since they were just starting middle school and Aya tried to punch the boy who tried to rip Jaslene’s dress.

Jaslene couldn’t help but imagine Aya as torn up about her death as Jude is about Matthew, but forces it away; Jude loves Matthew, and while Jaslene loves Aya, they would only ever be friends.

Her death would hurt everyone close to her, but Aya would be okay. She had the squad, her father, and a heart that could love someone else. Even after she dies, Aya would live.

That’s the only comfort Jaslene has.

Her throat tightens. Jaslene swallows heavily and stares at the papers plastered against the side of the building in search of distraction. Posters and ads clutter the space, the colors dull and paper tearing. Some dates have already come and passed. Some are months away. Some are sketchy as hell, and she wishes Jake was with her so they could laugh about them.

There are three more missing person fliers for Matthew. Jaslene wants to ignore them, but something about his picture catches her attention. He’s grinning up at the camera, glasses almost slipping off his nose, the collar of his sweatshirt crooked. He looks happy, without a care in the world, and Jaslene wants to jump back in time to warn that Matthew of what’s going to happen to him.

Jaslene stares a moment longer, and then it hits her:Jude is wearing Matthews sweatshirt.

And fuck, that makes her heart hurt.

She turns away, and starts walking again. More cars pass by now, a constant ebb and flow of noise that settles into the background after a few minutes. Past the store, it’s all just guess work. Jaslene looks around and hopes something strikes her as familiar, but everything looks the same, stuck in a uniform community whose only differences came with how people decorated their front yards.

Jaslene walks where she wants, wandering without a clear destination. One foot in front of the other, and over and over again. She takes a left, then a right, then crosses the street to walk through a small park.

She looks around, taking in the trees and flowers and lawn ornaments set up. Nothing catches her eye, nothing stands out. Jaslene steps off the sidewalk --

Three bird feeders. One of the first things she saw when she woke up was a small tree carrying three bird feeders, one with a small bell on it.

Her breath catches in her throat, but she’s too shocked to even think about breathing.

It was here. It was near here. She woke up in the middle of the street as it rained, just light enough to create a chill but not enough to really drench her. She woke up in the middle of the street--

There.

Barely noticeable. Splotches of discoloration. Too dark to be anything else. Just dark enough to stand out against the asphalt. Jaslene looks down the street to make sure no cars are coming, then crouches down, trying to fix every detail into her memory.

There’s a lot less blood than she expected. Jaslene stares, runs her fingers against the rough surface of the road.

She woke up here.

But she didn’t die here.