A second later, she realized the screams had been her own. The sky through her window was velvet black. The clock on her nightstand glowed 12:23. She reached her hand up and pressed her heart. It couldn’t break, but it could still thump the hell out of itself. She’d been dreaming, she realized, dreaming about Tristan. In the dream, the two of them were on a boat, and the boat started to sink. Lucy could see the shore from where they were, and she remembered shouting, “We can swim! We’re close enough to swim!” But Tristan just shook his head and opened a little door in his chest and took out his heart. He pressed a button on the side, and it started to inflate like a balloon. He handed it to her. “Use this,” he said. And then before Lucy could stop him, he dove into the ocean and she knew it was too late to save him.Half-asleep, Lucy reached for the phone. It wasn’t until it had rung three times that she fully awoke, and quickly hung up. What was wrong with her? She didn’t just call Tristan in the middle of the night no matter what time it was, knowing he’d either be up already or happy to be woken by her.
