Gran walked me all the way to the doors of the clinic before leaving to run a couple errands. When my name was called and I was sent to a room, the doctor was already there. None of the usual nurses, aside from the one who escorted me.

I despised doctors. Nothing against my doctor in particular, but I didn't appreciate being poked and prodded at. The relentless questioning and sharp smell of antiseptic that filled the rooms and halls of clinics and hospitals alike was another reason to dislike them. It all felt invasive.

"I'm glad to see you're back," Doctor Mikhail said, plastic gloves snapping against her wrists as she pulled them on. "No memory of what you've been up to, huh?"

I pulled myself onto the bed, the wax paper that laid upon it crinkling at the slightest bit of movement. "None."

"It's probably a good idea to get you an MRI. Just to rule out anything serious. And I'll order a couple labs after this check-up. Make sure you're not malnourished. Are you okay with that or would you prefer to go someplace else for it?"

"It's fine," I said, slipping out of my jacket as she moved behind me with her stethoscope.

She tried listening through the fabric of my dress, unzipping it when it caused too much disruption. The chest piece pressed against my skin, cold and uninviting. "I like your tattoo."

My mouth was as dry at the paper under me. "Tattoo?"

"Yes. Very minimalistic."

"I don't have a tattoo."

"Ease up, kiddo. I don't have to tell your grandmother. Deep breath in now."

I thought of the phone in my jacket pocket - one of the cheap disposable ones from the drugstore. We picked it up after leaving the police station - I had no idea what became of my old one and no way of finding it.

I did as she said, before asking, "Can you take a picture of it with my phone? I want to send it to a friend."

She took the phone I handed her and snapped the photo. I zipped up my dress, taking a quick look at the screen when she gave it back. My heart sank. The tattoo was a hieroglyph.

A jackal.

⁂

I wandered around town mindlessly for what felt like hours. Precious time was ticking away. Time I needed. Wouldn't get back. But I didn't know what to do. Until Amanda or the clinic called, I had nothing to do. Nothing to go about.

What was I supposed to do? Go to school? How frivolous. To sit at a desk as my life slipped through my fingers.

Some time later that I found myself at the park, sitting on a swing. It was relatively empty - kids weren't out of school yet since it was only noon. I shut my eyes, letting my feet brush against the ground as the swing moved back and forth. Every so often, a breeze would blow, pushing me back a little harder, a little further. It was cool and pleasant, the sort of day for a picnic.

"Neith?"

I opened my eyes.

There was a young man standing a few feet away, lingering near a bench. His brown eyes were open wide - stunned to see me. A smile stretched out across his lips - slow and beautiful - lighting up his face. "Neith!"

I smiled back at my boyfriend, unusually overjoyed to see him. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Jake Mendel was the image of perfection - tall, dark, and handsome. Smart and funny, athletic and brilliant. We were still sophomores, but he was already captain of the football team. Ever the town's golden boy.

I adored him, I did. Loved him even, but despite being happy to see him, something nagged at me. A secret I had yet to tell him - one I'd been keeping for months.

I was twelve when I figured there was some strange about me. I had my first kiss and instead of being excited or pleased, I just found it gross. And it wasn't that the boy's breath smelled like butter or that there was a popcorn kernel stuck in his tooth (even though, yes, that was entirely nasty). It was something else. Regardless, I brushed it off. But every kiss after that was just as unappealing as the first. And years later, I realized I had absolutely no desire to have sex. Ever. Not with anyone.

My best friend, Jayda, was the one who made me realize why. Until she told me, I didn't even know that asexuality was a thing. They didn't tell you about that in school - they told you that teenagers were horny with sex on the brain 24/7. They never said it was possible to be repulsed by it.

It wasn't that I couldn't feel anything romantically. It was simply that I didn't enjoy anything remotely sexual.

Jake was clueless to my sexuality. Or lack thereof. The first couple times he tried kissing me, I recoiled, and then he stopped trying. He didn't attempt to pressure me into anything. Didn't ask why I wouldn't let him touch me that way. No was no. That was all he needed to hear.

I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed to tell him. Not at all. But every time I considered telling him, all I could think of was of all the ways it could go wrong.

But now, I'm-asexual felt a lot easier to say then I'm-a-zombie.

"You're back!" Jake cried, striding over. He caught the chains that held up the swing, forcing it still as he knelt, making us eye-level. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where the hell have you been?"

I'd already been keeping one secret. Now I had to pile on another.

"I'm okay. Not hurt. And I would like a hug before any further questions." I held up my arms with another smile and he wrapped his around me, pressing his lips against my forehead. The smell of his woodsy cologne was a welcome aroma.

He pulled back. "Where were you?"

"No idea. I can't remember. Right now, it seems like I got lost in the woods or something."

He drew his brows together. "For a week?"

"I guess."

"Have you talked to the police yet? Seen a doctor?"

"Done and done."

"When did you get back?"

"Last night."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Lost my phone. And I figured I'd drop by later or something." I put my hands on his shoulder. "Relax, Golden Boy. Everything's fine. Probably just an over-achiever meltdown. You have them all the time. I'm allowed to have a few, aren't I?"

"You should've said something if you were that stressed." He stood up and took my hand, pulling me up. "I was going to Bernie's before I saw you. Come on, my treat."

Bernie's was an old ice cream parlor frequented by the locals. Growing up, most of us went there all the time. It was a minute's walk from the park.

"It better be. I lost my wallet too."

He shook his head, slipping his fingers through mine. "You can repay me by talking about whatever has you so stressed."

This was nice. Normal. I wished I called him as soon as I got back. It might've made things better. Easier. Even if I couldn't tell him the truth about what happened.

"Why aren't you at school?" I asked him.

"Been skipping."

"For how long?"

"Since you went missing."

"Do you know where I was that night?Before I disappeared? I can't remember anything."

"No. I didn't see you again after I walked you home from school." Jake pushed open the door of the parlor. "Any idea what you want?"

"Rocky road."

"As always."

"Of course. I'm a creature of habit."

I slid into one of the red booths by the window, staring out the glass as Jake got us our ice cream.

Nothing had changed.

I died and nothing changed.

Jake appeared with two massive cones of ice cream and handed me mine before he took a seat.

"Vanilla," I said, wrinkling my nose at his. "Boring."

"Classic," he corrected.

I shook my head. "If it makes you feel better."

He smiled at that. "You're lucky you're cute. Nobody else would get away with insulting my taste."

A woman outside shrieked with laughter, the sudden sound shaking me.

Another scream filled my ears. Another voice. My voice.

Jake's face contorted into something ugly. Something angry.

This didn't feel real - it felt like a glimpse of a dream. A dream I didn't want. A nightmare.

"Neith?"

I blinked, it was like trying to wake up, but being too drowsy to shake off the sleepiness. The echoes of my screams were still present, even if the boy in front of me looked quite normal. More concerned than angry.

"What's wrong?"

"I-I'm fine. I'm fine."

Jake tipped his head, gaze flickering to my hands. They were covered in rocky road ice cream and the crushed remnants of my cone. The rest was dripping onto the table. He pulled a napkin from the dispenser.

"Clean your hands. I'll get you another."

"You don't ha-"

He was already out the booth, walking to the counter.

I wiped my hands off, trying to ignore the dreadful feeling creeping into my chest. Jake wouldn't hurt a soul - everyone knew that. I knew that. Whatever I thought I remembered was a figment of a stressed mind.

My phone rang. I fished it out and tucked it between my cheek and shoulder while I cleaned my mess. "Gran?"

"I found another, Neith."

"Another? Another what?"

"Another soul back from the dead."