My heart thunders and the ceiling throbs before my eyes, dark and menacing. The stucco has grown spikes, and it slowly descends over me, ready to crush my whole body. I place my hand on my sweaty forehead and let out a shaky breath and let my vision stabilize because Jesus Christ, it was just a dream. Just a dream.

But it isn't a dream. Somewhere out there, Colton Slater has my little sister.

I'm drenched in sweat, so I tear off the covers and chug the glass of water on my nightstand. Fuck this. I can't take it. I hate waking up alone every night at five a.m. with pictures of that monster dwelling in my mind. The image is fresh—I still see him standing over me in that alley with a knife, and then he's beating me, then he's holding the blade to Charlotte's throat.

I want to hurl, but more than anything, I need a hug. So I go downstairs, painfully aware that I won't like what I'll find in the basement.

It's so quiet in the house, like a crypt. The hardwood floor creaks beneath my feet as I walk, not looking at any of the photos on the walls, not thinking about Charlotte.

A faint orange glow from a lamp lights the basement. Coming down here to see Lucy used to excite me, but in the week Charlotte has been missing, every time I walk through that door, I'm faced with disappointment. I stop before Lucy's room and take a deep breath. Is there even a point in going in? I think she hates the sight of me.

She's been spending a lot of time at the station, mostly while I'm at school, and she doesn't like talking about what happens there. But I know, sort of. Her confession had reopened the case of her father's murder, and Lucy's the prime witness. For the first time in my life, I'm glad my dad's a cop. They drew up a sketch of Colt and sent out an AMBER alert. But my nightmares get worse every night, and Lucy's a part of them now too.

My whole family's broken apart.

Dad's been working overtime. I hardly see him, just quick glances over bowls of cereal before he's back at the station, and I'm back at school.

Ollie deals with it by drinking and going to bars, acting like everything's fine. He isn't around. Big surprise there.

But it's the hardest on Mom. She spends her days in front of the TV, glued to reruns of Gilmore Girls. Sometimes, when I walk by the living room, I catch her crying. She never notices me.

A sob from the other side of the door breaks my thoughts. With my heart heavy, I knock, and after some shuffling and sniffling, Lucy says, "What?"

I open the door. She's curled beneath the blankets, her face hidden.

"Go away, Elliot. I don't want sex."

"That's not why I'm here." Fuck, I hate being so dramatically emotional, but I can't help it. I'm already crying. "Why do you always assume the worst of me?"

Lucy says nothing. I shut the door and press my back to it, before I take a deep breath and sit on the edge of the bed. Lucy uncovers her face. Her bangs are tangled and unkempt, and through the darkness, her teary eyes gleam in the shred of moonlight from the small window.

"Why are you crying?" I ask.

"This is all my fault."

"No, it isn't."

She scowls and turns away. "Stop bullshitting me. Just go away, Elliot."

"No." I reach under the blankets and grab her hands, holding them both in mine. They're so small and cold. "No, Lucy, it's not all your fault. It's my fault. She's my little sister. She came to me for help and I turned her away. And I—"

Shame and regret course through my veins. Charlotte came to me. I picture her sad eyes and I wan to vomit. She told me she was unhappy and I'd passed off everything as "just some phase." I'm such an idiot. If anything, this is my fault.

Lucy pulls her hands away. "Please leave me alone, El."

"But why?"

Why does she keep rejecting me like this? Why won't she touch me? I don't care about sex, but Lucy is my girlfriend—I want to hug her. I want her to comfort me, because I'm fucking devastated too. I want her to tell me that she loves me. Even if it's just once. Even if it's a lie.

Tears force their way from my eyes and fall down my cheeks, and I sob onto my bare wrists, pointlessly trying to wipe them away with my skin.

Please, Lucy. I need you. Don't make me do this alone.

I know she doesn't like me right now, but I move in to kiss her. When she doesn't back away, I press my lips to hers and taste the salty tears on her mouth. She kisses me back, but it's short, and as I pull away, more tears fall from her eyes.

But then she pushes me away, harder this time.

"I asked you to leave me alone." The icy tone of her voice twists the knife in my gut.

Finally, her eyes meet mine. Bags crease her freckled skin, but she's still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

"I love you." I kiss her forehead. "I don't blame you for any of this."

Sputtered sobs escape her lips, and she clutches onto my shirt with her tiny fists. Taking the invitation, I get under the covers and hug her, rubbing her shoulders, whispering that it'll all be okay. I hold her until her trembling stops and her breaths are quiet, content, asleep.

Late in the afternoon, Dad calls everyone into the living room. He and Mom pull up chairs and sit on the opposite side of the coffee table while Lucy, Ollie and I are on the couch. The house feels so empty without Charlotte in it.

Mom's hands shake as she leans forward. The lines on Dad's face are deep like rivers, like he's aged a decade in the past week.

"Dad," I say, "just spit it out already.

He sighs. "We've still got nothing."

"Of course we don't." Ollie throws his arms up. "We're never gonna find her."

Dad looks at Lucy, and her small fingers grip my hand with a surprising amount of strength.

"Is there anything else you haven't told us?" Dad asks. "Anything at all?"

Lucy shakes her head. "No. He always kept me out of his personal life. I know he has family in Toronto, but I don't even know their names."

"This is all your fucking fault."

Everyone's eyes snap to Ollie. Still holding Lucy's hand, I punch him in the arm with my free one.

"Shut up, man. It's not her fault."

Ollie stands. "No, it totally is." He looks at Dad. "It's her ex who took Charlie." And back at Lucy. "You being with El led that psycho right to her! Why don't you get the fuck out of our lives before you get my little brother killed too?"

"Oliver," Mom seethes.

They shout at each other. Dad gets involved. The whole room is stuffed full of chaos and my brain rattles. I hold my hands over my ears. The walls collapse around me. I can't take this. I want to scream. I want to—

Lucy's sob cuts through the commotion.

"He's right." She hides her face with her forearm. "It's my fault this happened to Charlotte. It's all my fault."

An ill silence falls over us.

"No, Luce..." I touch her knee. "No, it's not your fault."

"Yes it is!" Ollie shouts.

Mom squares her shoulders. "No, Lucy... it's..."

She can't bring herself to finish her sentence, but Lucy's smart—I'm sure she picks up on it. Things have been tense between her and my parents. For the most part, Lucy hides in the basement, only coming out to eat sometimes.

"Dad," Ollie says, "how can we let this chick stay here like she's replacing Char? What the hell?"

Dad's eyes flare. "That is not what's happening here."

Lucy sobs into her hands. My heart plummets, but at the same time, rage steams through me. I'm mad but I'm sad and I'm tired and I don't know what to do about it. There's so much noise in my head. It's like static, constantly buzzing and pricking at my brain. I want it to stop. I wish I had an off switch.

"Seriously?" Ollie scoffs. "Good job, El, you fucking moron."

Red flashes before my eyes. The next thing I know, my fist is flying toward Ollie's face. It doesn't land. Dad holds me back, Mom looks at me in horror, Lucy cries, and Ollie's eyes are widened in shock. I've never hit him before—of course not, he's my brother. But even as Dad restrains me, I want to knock Ollie's lights out. Rage coils from the pits of my stomach to my neck. I fight Dad's grip and try to get at him. I want to hurt him. I—

"Calm the fuck down!" Dad throws me to the floor, and my elbows smash painfully against the rug. My head knocks off the brick of the fireplace and for a moment, I see stars.

"Ow..."

"Adam!" Mom's voice is shrill. "Get your hands off of him!"

But Dad already knows. He's on his knees beside me, his hands checking my head for injuries. "El, I'm sorry—I didn't mean—"

"No, it's okay." Rubbing the back of my head, I stand, reality hitting me. "I deserved that."

Mom shoves Dad away and checks my head herself. "What were you thinking, Adam? You could have killed him!"

For the first time ever, Dad looks guilty. He's never gotten physical with me, but I'm not mad—I deserved it. I can't believe I almost hit Ollie. We have our differences, but...

"Mom, I'm fine. Dad, it's fine. Ollie, I'm sorry I tried to hit you."

"Whatever." Ollie storms out of the room. "I don't care about anything else, Lucy needs to go."

It's only then that I notice Lucy isn't even in the room. Upstairs, I hear a door slam.

I know where she went.

My parents try to stop me, but I run upstairs and into my room. My window is open. Outside, Lucy sniffles as she sits on the roof with her knees to her chest, the orange and blue sky in front of her. Carefully, I ease myself outside. A cool breeze shakes the trees on the front lawn. I sit next to Lucy, and she lifts her head, trying to wipe her tears, but I can watch the sunset in them. We're quiet for a long time before I finally build up the guts to speak.

"I'm sorry for all the drama. I can't believe I almost clocked Ollie..."

Once again, her face is buried between her knees. Her soft cries burn a hole in my heart, each sob like the singe of a lit cigarette against my flesh.

I miss Charlotte more than anything. I miss her annoying jabs and her stupid jokes and how she'd bounce around like a ball and guilt trip me into doing things for her. Just imagining where she is, what that guy's doing to her is fucking awful. I have this recurring dream where she's being dragged through the city at night with red and blue lights flashing all around her. Cops drive by but they can't see her, and I scream, but no one hears me. I'm as powerless to save her in my nightmare as I am in real life.

I want my sister back. I just want to see her alive.

But I still don't blame Lucy.

"Hey..." I shift closer to her. "It's okay. Come on, Lucy. You can't blame yourself for this. You were a victim too, you know that, right?"

"I do know that, but I made my own decisions too," she says, not looking at me. "But if I had known he would find out you have a little sister, I would have stayed with him. I would have figured out another way."

"You couldn't have known."

"I've been thinking a lot about something, and honestly, I don't think you're gonna like it."

"You can tell me anything," I say.

"You're really sweet. But the truth is, Elliot, I don't like who I am when I'm with you."

Her words strike me, but I don't have time to react. I sit up straight and suck in a breath. "What do you mean?"

"I—I feel weak. I don't know, vulnerable, I guess." Lucy wipes her teary eyes. "I don't feel like I'm strong anymore, and I don't like it."

"That's not true. You're the strongest girl I've ever met."

"But that doesn't make me strong."

More silence, thick and palpable, crushes me. What is she saying? That I bring her down?

"I guess I just don't feel like myself anymore," she says.

"So what're you saying?" My voice cracks.

I wish she'd tell me how she feels. She used to. She used to be so blunt about what was on her mind, but now I feel like there's a mountain between us, and no matter how hard I chip at it, the only thing that can move a mountain is an earthquake, and I'm more like a drop of rain.

Lucy sniffles. "I think I just need to be alone for a bit, okay?"

Even though Lucy refuses to meet my eyes, I lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips. She shivers beneath me, and I brush my fingertips across her soft face, kissing her deeper before I pull away.

"I love you," I say.

But she never says it back.