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And secretly, I think we’d all enjoyed lockdown. Well, my parents and I had. Billy didn’t notice a difference as he was too young.

But now the results didn’t seem important. I didn’t care anymore.

What was the point?

“Let’s see how I do.” My voice was a whisper. “Then I can make a decision.”

“If you want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen,” Dylan said.

Lulu gave me a tentative smile. “Me too,” she said, her voice low, her dark eyes unreadable.

“Thank you,” I said through a forced smile and the uncomfortable tightness that squeezed my throat.

That night, in bed, my thoughts were daunting and confused. For the first time, I was consciously concerned about my mental health.

I am going crazy.

The apparition in the back room kept spiraling through my mind. It was all very well smelling and hearing things, but conjuring up an attractive young man out of nowhere was, frankly, crazy. He wasn’t even anyone I knew. The only explanation was that I was going out of my mind. Out of my mind with grief.

Supper had been painful. We were all walking on eggshells around one another, and my overwhelming feeling was one of guilt. I’d survived the accident, only to be catapulted into Dylan’s life, disrupting it and making his tidy life messy. I was nothing but a burden, and that thought was intolerable.

Curling up into a small ball, I cried myself to sleep.

I dream…

Of the young man from my hallucination… Man? Boy? He’s young, not much older than me, and he’s standing in the room Dylan and I have been decorating. He’s staring at me. He doesn’t speak.

The room changes. Back to what it was before. The walls are covered in the old, dull-yellow paint. Dressed in black, he appears before me and walks backward around the room, facing me, his burning green eyes fixed on mine, his expression unreadable. As I wander around, I touch the walls and windows with the tips of my fingers, his gaze moving from my fingers to my face and back again. The sun shines like a halo around his longish hair that flops over his eyes, and he runs his hand through it to scoop it off his face. His eyes, the color of moss, miss nothing. His skin is sun-kissed as if he’s just back from holiday.

We’re in Dylan’s spare bedroom, and the young man stands over me as I sleep. I toss and turn where I lie and look restless or uncomfortable—I’m not sure which. My jeans glide gently down my legs and come to rest, folded, at the end of the bed. Immediately, the duvet lifts and cocoons around me, and I settle. He gazes for the longest time at the photograph beside my bed, then at my phone.

Later, I’m standing in the hallway downstairs, eyes closed, while taking a deep breath. I look serene and ethereal, as if I don’t have a care in the world. I open my eyes, and the boy is standing in front of me, his beautiful face all angles and high cheekbones with full, slightly parted lips. He regards me with curiosity and cocks his head to the side as if trying to understand what or who I am.

In the back room, as I lie on the floor breathing deeply with my eyes closed, he towers over me, his eyes not leaving mine. He’s smiling. He has a beautiful smile. Then we’re in the back room again and I’m dressed in Dylan’s oversize shirt, painting the wall pale rose. I look sad and small, and I stop, close my eyes, and take a long, deep breath.

You’ll be okay. Hang in there. The boy’s words wrap around me like a warm embrace.

I woke suddenly, my heart pounding.

What the hell?

I switched on my bedside lamp and squinted in the soft light. It was still dark, and I had no idea of the time. I rubbed my face in the hope the friction might clear my mind.

What was that about? I hadn’t remembered any dreams since… since before the accident. But this one was vivid.

Who the hell was that boy?

My family, frozen in time, stared back at me as I blinked sleep from my eyes, but they had no answers.

Lying back in my bed, I gazed up at the ceiling, confused as hell. My heart slowed as I tried but failed to make sense of my dream.

What did it mean?

I was at a loss. My grieving mind was playing some mean trick on me.

As I turned over to switch off my light, the anxiety about my mental health mushroomed.

Am I insane?