Jennifer Armentrout: Cursed

Then, when I thought I’d seriously lost my mind, his fingers brushed over the scar above my navel. It was a like a bucket of ice water thrown on me. I pushed—pushed hard.

“No—stop. I can’t do this.”

Hayden was breathing heavily. Although he didn’t look like he wanted to, he let go and stepped back.

“Em—”

“Don’t. I can’t do this!” I screamed, surprised by how pathetic I sounded. “You can’t love me. Do you know how twisted this sounds?”

He looked like I had physically wounded him, but it was nothing compared to what I felt.

“You need to let me leave here, Hayden. Please.”

Hayden shook his head. “You have to let me explain—”

“Explain what?” I cried. “You killed my father—you killed me, for chrissake!”

“ What ?” he gasped.

“I saw the papers, Hayden! I saw them. And you’ve basically admitted to it.”

His brows furrowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never admitted to causing that accident because I didn’t! How could you even think that?”

God, he sounded so honest, so genuine, like the words were tearing him apart. But the evidence—the evidence was right on the floor.

I dropped to my knees and grabbed for the menu, planning to shove it his face. “This is the menu to… to—I don’t understand.” I turned the menu over.

“It’s a menu to the Smoke Hole diner. And no, I don’t know how it got there.”

“No, no, no. This wasn’t a menu to the diner!” I flipped it back and forth. “This is—was a menu to Salt of the Sea.”

“Obviously, it’s not, Ember.”

I looked up, shaking my head. Hayden’s arms were folded across his chest and he looked angry. “No.

There were dates written across the menu! The date of the accident was circled. It was in your handwriting! There were newspaper articles about my Dad, my school schedule—” I made a grab for them, only to find out that they, too, weren’t what I’d previously seen.

The article clippings were of Cromwell’s election. The schedule was council meetings. The directions were to Morgantown. “I don’t understand. This isn’t what I saw!”

“I didn’t touch those papers.”

“I know—I know you didn’t.” I dropped them and sat back. Hayden hadn’t been talking about the car crash when he’d said he’d killed people. Oh, God. He’d been talking about the fire and… and I’d yelled at him—demanded how he could’ve done that.

“Ember, what’s going on with you? Dammit, was this why you wanted to drive to school by yourself today? So you could sneak through our stuff?”

I dropped my head into my hands. None of this made sense. I know what I saw and yet, it wasn’t there.

“And still after everything, you don’t trust me. You really think that I would have ever hurt you or your family? That I could have done something like that?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Wait. What am I saying?

You read my file. You know why I was in foster care. So yeah, I guess you’d think I’d murdered your father, too.”

“No.” I moved my hands away from my face. “You didn’t murder your parents. It was an accident.

You didn’t know how to control your gift. You’re not a killer, Hayden.”

He stared down at me silently.

“I… I think I’m losing my mind. I really am.”

The anger faded from his face, replaced by concern. He crouched and gently grasped my shoulders.

“Ember, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I know what I saw, but it isn’t there anymore. I’m sorry—I’m sorry about what happened to your family.

It’s not your fault.”

“Forget about that. Are you feeling okay?”

I laughed, because honestly, I felt funny. My brain was processing everything wrong. I was far from being okay. Either my mind had played a horrible trick on me or I was crazy.

“Em?” He ran his fingers over my cheek. Just a simple, gentle touch and it pierced my heart. How could he ever forgive me for this? “Em, you don’t look so good.”

“I have a headache.” In fact, I’d had a headache ever since English class. “I want to leave. Can we just leave?”

Hayden stared a moment, then nodded. We stopped long enough to change into dry clothes before climbing into his SUV. He leaned forward, running his arm over the fogged windshield. “Em, did you feel anything strange before you looked at those papers?”

“No.” I stared out the window. “Just a headache, but I haven’t eaten.”

Hayden stopped at the end of the driveway. “Do you want to get something to eat, then? We can talk about what you saw.”

I nodded. We traveled down the rural highway in silence until I couldn’t stand not knowing what he thought or apologizing to him again. “Hayden, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have read your file. That’s your personal stuff. “

“I would’ve told you, Em. I just didn’t know how to. I thought you’d—Shit!” He slammed on the brakes.

I jerked forward. There was a black car—two-door. Not a Porsche, but it looked familiar, and it was right in the middle of the road.

The tires slipped over the rain-soaked road, losing traction as Hayden whipped the steering wheel into the spin-out. We’d been going too fast to stop so suddenly. The car spun into the other lane, going up on two tires and we sort of hung there in the air for a second. In that pause, my brain flipped back two years.

I heard Hayden curse.

And then we were flung to the side as the SUV rolled. An explosion of white and dust threw me back into the seat. My heart stopped and my lungs seized the moment we came down on the driver’s side, then the roof, then my side. The crash jarred every bone in my body. The air flew from my lungs and my head hit the window with a disgusting thud.

A crack sounded as the SUV took another nasty flip. I couldn’ t even scream. It was like being trapped in haunting memory that wouldn’t relinquish control. My head slammed into the window again and this time the glass shattered under the impact.

Something metallic ripped and pressed into me as we skidded off the road and slid across the field, finally coming to rest on the driver’s side.

I remained still for minutes, stunned and barely able to breathe. Blood, wet and warm, trickled down the side of my head. Something poked into my right leg, leaving it numb. I tried to look around, but the movement hurt. Over the radio, I could hear the tires spinning.

Miraculously, I was still held by my seatbelt and I was alive, I was— Hayden . I didn’t hear him, couldn’t see him.

Frantic, I ignored the waves of red-hot pain and pushed at the airbag until I could see around me. The driver’s airbag had deflated. Hayden lay against the crushed door, motionless and covered in blood.

And through all that blood, he was pale so, so pale.

“Hayden!” I pitched forward, but the seatbelt yanked me back. “Hayden! Wake up! Please—oh, God.

Please be alive.” My fingers, drenched in blood, slipped over the latch.

He didn’t move. I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, and I couldn’t get the seatbelt undone. Panic poured through me, screams filled my ears. Someone had to help us, right? Hayden had to be alive— he had to be .

This couldn’t be happening again. No. No, not all over—

The passenger door yanked open, startling me. I stopped struggling, stopped screaming. Someone was here to help. Everything was going to be okay.

Arms reached down, wrapping around my waist while a hand felt for the seatbelt. I was too relieved to even think about what would happen if they touched me. I couldn’t tear my eyes off Hayden to even look to see who was pulling me out of the car. I was hoisted into the air for a second, and rain beat down on my face, mixing with tears. “Please help him! Please!”