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PROLOGUE

Molly

I have a monster. A cruel, twisted nightmare that haunts the shadows of my mind. It lurks in my memories, waiting to strike when I’m not ready.

You’re fine, Molly. You’re safe.

“Hurry up.”

I whip my head to look over my shoulder at the words. The girl isn’t speaking to me, but my back still goes ramrod straight.

Tonight is supposed to be exciting. It’s the Frost Cup. The biggest weekend in high school hockey. Teams from all the neighboring states flock to Redville to play in my school’s infamous tournament.

Every inch of the hall leading to the rink is packed. On a typical night, the crowd is chaotic during home games. Tonight, it’s even worse.

Apparently, this team is the best.

That’s why more people are here than usual.

This is the game of the year. Scouts are in the audience. College scouts. Pro scouts. Hell, even my brother’s coach for the Saints is here.

I’m surprised Dane didn’t insist on coming with me. He barely lets me go anywhere alone.

But when he stopped me at the door earlier, I put my foot down.

Told him I was going alone.

I’m a senior, for crying out loud.

And just because my older brother is my guardian doesn’t mean he has to act like an overprotective dad.

“For fuck’s sake, will you people just walk?”

This time, it’s a guy speaking. A real douchebag, by the looks of it.

I keep going, pushing my way through the crowd.

I’m almost there when I see someone familiar standing a few feet away. It’s him. And suddenly, my monster isn’t some faceless shadow in my mind. He’s real, and tangible, and terrifying, and here .

He can’t see me. The world might end if he does. For me, anyway.

A shiver works its way down my spine. I duck to the left, hoping the crowd will hide me.

I can’t talk to him.

I can’t even look at him.

Shit.

I know, without a measure of a doubt, he’s waiting for me.

He wouldn’t be if Dane were here.

How does he know I’m alone?

It doesn’t matter. Escape first. Questions later.

The walls start to close in on me. I can feel my chest tightening.

With a force that rocks my feet, I’m ripped away from the stadium, falling into my memories and succumbing to my vicious monster.

I’m there again.

In the dark . . .

No.

You’re not.

You’re at school. Going to a hockey game. Because everything is normal now.

I’m safe.

I’m protected.

Maybe if I repeat it enough, I’ll believe it.

Someone bumps into me from behind.

“Move, freak.”

I don’t even know the girl scowling at me, but I’m sure she knows me. Thanks to Dane, every student at Redville High knows me.

She turns to her friends and giggles. “I don’t care that her brother is some NHL hotshot. The girl’s a weirdo.”

Her insults barely register. My feet are still weighed down. It feels like someone dumped concrete in my shoes, and for the life of me, I can’t lift my legs to keep going.

Move. Now. He’ll catch you if you don’t.

The sound of rushing water fills my ears, and I know it’s only a matter of time before the darkness pulls me under.

You’re going to die.

My heart thunders in my chest. It’s impossible to breathe.

Great. I’m going to die of a heart attack at seventeen.

I shake my head. No. I won’t let this happen now.

I’ve researched panic attacks, and if I let the intrusive thoughts break in . . .

“Who is she saying no to?” the girl whines, still mere inches away from me in the gridlocked crowd. “Is this bitch for real?”

A shoulder hits me, and I stumble forward.

She laughs. “Careful.”

Usually, I’d say something.

Normally, I also wouldn’t be a sneeze away from a full-fledged panic attack.

I thought I had them under control.

But every time I see him . . .

Without a word, I head in the opposite direction, away from the entrance to the rink. Toward anywhere but here.

I’m almost to the door. Just a few feet away.The exit sign blares red with promises of my escape.

Hopefully, the alarm doesn’t sound when I push open the door and add yet another embarrassing memory to my long list of high school fiascos, but I’m so close to losing my shit, I don’t even care.

The cool metal handle ices my fingers. I push it forward, the door creeping open slowly.

No alarm.

Makes sense. It’s a game day, after all.

I’m sure all the doors are unlocked tonight.

It takes a surprising amount of strength to prop open the heavy door, and the second I do, the cold night air hits me in the face.

It’s dark outside. Much darker than it was in the front of the building, where lights illuminate the black sky.

Here, a halo of stars and a giant moon are my backdrop.

I walk until I can see a faint light from the other side of the building and take a seat on the gum-dotted pavement.

Eyes closed, I try to calm my racing heart. My jaw chatters from the cold. Or maybe it’s the nerves.

A roar of cheers shatters my quiet solitude. It fades a moment later, leaving me alone with the thought of my monster looming over me.

He’s here.

He’s here, he’s here, he’s here.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the way I shake.

“I’m just cold,” I try to tell myself, my teeth chattering between each syllable. “It’s not because of him.”

I’m stronger now . . .

But even my strength can’t stop the shadows from creeping in when the lights go out.

The faint shuffle of footsteps behind me sends a jolt down my spine. My body locks tight like a coiled spring.

Please, not now.

I don’t want to talk to anyone.

Please, don’t see me.

I close my eyes, willing whoever it is to leave.

Don’t let it be him.

It can’t be him.

It has to be him.

I’m spiraling. I know I am. But no matter how hard I try, my head and heart no longer feel tethered to reality. It’s too late. The monster struck and won. I’ve flung the door to my brain wide freaking open, and now all my intrusive thoughts batter their way in.

He found you.

A footstep closer.

Another one.

My body clenches.

My breathing stops.

I brace for impact.

Warmth.

All I feel is warmth.

My eyelids fly open at the sound of the door opening and closing nearby.

I peer over my shoulder, searching for the stranger. But I’m alone.

No one is here.

Did I make it up?

But it’s warm. So warm.

My fingers brush against the fabric draped over my shoulders.

It’s thick and worn and smells like pine trees.

A jacket.

Whoever it was left me a jacket.