“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” she asked. “How could you do that? Just leave without telling me.”

“What?” I flashed back to the morning—it seemed so long ago. “You were busy.”

“I was busy? Too busy for you to ask permission? Really, Delaney, who are you?”

A cut. That’s what I felt. Words can cut, slice, like a razor. The old Delaney would’ve asked permission. The old Delaney with the normal brain scan. I was someone else.

Then I heard the scrape of metal on concrete.

I walked through the kitchen, through the laundry room, and swung open the back door. The windows shook as the door slammed into the outside wall. Mom followed quickly behind. “What are you doing here?” I asked as Troy tossed a shovelful of snow into the yard. He jammed the shovel back into the ground, scraping against the concrete hidden beneath the snow.

“He’s helping,” Mom said, sounding farther away than she was. I couldn’t take my eyes off Troy. He stopped hurling snow and rested on the shovel, his chest heaving from exertion. I could tell by the force of the shoveling, the dullness of his eyes, the set of his mouth. He wasn’t helping. He was furious. He was taking out his rage on our sidewalk.

Mom said, “You didn’t even have the courtesy to be on time for your own date.”

“We can still make the movie,” Troy said, glaring at me, but trying hard not to glare.

I looked between Troy and my mother. Troy, barely controlling his anger. My mother, not even bothering to try.

“Delaney,” Troy said, taking me by the arm. “Let’s go.” He dragged me through the house, and I let him, because I wasn’t sure who I was most scared of at the moment. The stranger I was learning about too quickly, or the woman I’d known my entire life who was quickly becoming a stranger.

Troy started driving in the wrong direction. “Where are you going?”

“My place.”

“No, you’re not. The only place I’m going with you is the movie theater.”

Troy glanced at me from the corner of his eye and smiled. “I underestimated you,” he said.

“I overestimated you.”

“That’s not fair.” But he swung the car around, drove to town, and parked in the back lot of the theater. I was out the door before he turned off the ignition. There was no way I was getting stuck out here with him alone, even in daylight. Because I’d seen the way he looked at me as he tore at the sidewalk with the shovel. And I’d seen the mark he left on my upper arm without even really trying. The scar from fourteen unexplained stitches was warning enough.

Troy bought our tickets, like it was an actual date. He tucked an arm through mine and pulled me past the concession stand, into our movie, to the black corner in the back row. Even though there were other couples scattered throughout the theater, we were very much alone. Nobody knew we were there, but I felt calm because at least everyone would hear me scream.

That’s what I thought anyway until the movie started and I realized we were seeing the latest blockbuster with nonstop explosions and gunfire and very little plot. I was wedged in the corner, in the seat against the wall. Troy leaned into me and spoke directly into my ear. It was the only way I could hear him over the movie. “You ran out on me before I could explain.”

I brought my mouth to his ear and hated that my face touched his when I spoke. “You lied to me from the beginning,” I said. “The reason you work there.”

“I didn’t lie. I hate seeing people suffer.”

“So what were you doing with the pills?”

“I gave her the pain medicine. The other pills, they’re just prolonging the suffering. Forcing her to live longer than she wants to.”

“You’re killing her!”

“She’s going to die anyway. Least I can do is make it quick.” His lips brushed my ear and I jerked back.

“That’s not your choice to make.”

“No, it’s not a choice at all. It’s my obligation. It’s my purpose.”

I pulled away and looked at him like I couldn’t tell whether he was serious or making some sick joke.

He gripped one of my shoulders and pulled me close again. “You don’t get to judge me. You weren’t in the car with me and my family. My parents, they died instantly. That side of the car was crushed. But my sister, she was behind me. You know how long it took for her to die? Three days. Three goddamn days. She begged me to help her. She was broken and bleeding and delirious. She wasn’t begging for me to save her life. She was begging for me to put her out of her misery.”