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We have to go back in time and fix this,
Time travel is not an option.
need to tell Finn that he can break up with Sylvie over the phone. That’s the solution. But it’s already done. He’s gone.
Death is so final. Over. Done. Finn.
was frozen, staring at everything and nothing,
like I’m drowning.
There’s no medicine for this pain.
I won’t be able to tell Finn that he was right about Alexis.
Is she in love with him too, or is she an honest-to-God sociopath?
He’s dead now. Finn’s dead. But he can’t be.
Finn is never coming home again.
He won’t get to be with Autumn.
The thing is I’ve always hated Autumn.
I’ve always understood why Finn was so into her.
He was so certain that she loved him. And he’s dead now.
I wish Finn was able to feel something, anything.
How everyone loved him.
“It’s going to be like that for a while, okay?
This is too horrible to take in all at once. Do you understand?”
Finn had been declared dead on the scene.
would give anything in the world for another run, another sniff of sweaty Finn.
I wonder why Autumn can’t be alone.
I get the answer when I see her.
I guess I don’t have any lingering doubts about Autumn’s feelings for Finn. Her face is so swollen from crying t...
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her...
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“I was asking about Sylvie.”
She says her name
“Autumn, Jack, I love you both so much, but if I see your faces right now, I’ll cry. I have to go. I have to go. I have to go…”
Not like Autumn and I knew Finn.
I don’t know if she loved Finn anywhere close to as much as he loved her, but she loved him. I believe it now.
Autumn, he’s been in love with you for as long as I’ve known him.”
“Like, fairy-tale love?
“You were the biggest, most impossible dream for him.”
“Finn loved you,”
“He was coming back to you. You can be certain of that.”
Finn Smith in a morgue.
The body that is Finn and not Finn, because Finn is gone.
“You were a good friend to him.”
“I was trying to make it not real by not believing it, and screaming worked…for a while.”
“Autumn will be okay, and so will you. We all will be.”
“Life can be and often is fiercely cruel,” she continues.
I can’t see myself, but I don’t make choices or feel any emotions. Everything I do is automatic and remote.
wish I could tell Finn how seeing the foosball table makes me want to fall to my knees and sob, because he would think it was funny and make a joke about the times he kicked my ass on it.
Nothing feels as it should.
Finn is dead.
My sense of detachment is gone, replaced entirely by a quiet horror. I’ve hung out with Finn and Sylvie so many times in this underground room. Is that the source of this new yet familiar feeling?
“Sylvie could see he was dead when she came to.”
It’s still the day of Finn’s death.
“Sylvie told me that when she saw his face, she wished she had died too.”
It seems so obvious now; it matters which people you spend time with, and it matters how you spend your time, because you don’t know how much you have.
Everyone they love will die too, and no one can stop it.
