"Kat–!" Sky gasped, her eyes widening. "Am I— am I dead?"

It seemed like the only explanation. She had died, her heart had finally given up after all the sorrow and the grief, she had died in her sleep and Kat was the angel of death, here to take her to the afterlife.

Finally. Sky was ready to go, had been for a long, long time.

But Kat let out a husky laugh and pushed her hands into the pockets of her skinny, black jeans.

"No. But you stink like a corpse. When's the last time you showered?"

"I— I don't know. I'm not sure. What— what day is it?"

Kat rolled her eyes. "You're asking me? I'm dead. I don't even know what year it is."

Meant as a joke, but the way Kat said those words hit Sky like a wrecking ball.

Kat looked exactly the same as she had the last time they'd seen each other. So young. It was now almost two years since Kat had died and suddenly Sky felt the unrelenting flow of time in her bones. She was now seventeen, but Kat was still fifteen. Kat would always be fifteen, she would always look the same, she would always wear those black jeans and the Slipknot T-shirt, the same outfit she had died in. No matter how much time passed, no matter how old Sky grew, Kat would always stay the same.

That thought was an arrow through her heart. The plans they'd had for the future - college, travel, drugs, laughter, booze, boyfriends, girlfriends, careers, kids - were nothing more than dust and shadows.

Kat flashed her a grin that revealed all her sharp, a bit wolfish teeth. Either she didn't notice Sky's sudden emotion, or she pretended she didn't. Sky suspected the latter - Kat had never been good at talking about feelings.

Sky swallowed hard, still trying to find her voice that felt weird and raspy on her tongue. "Is this— Is this a dream?"

"Well, it must be," Kat shrugged and flipped her shiny, black hair behind her shoulder, as she took a seat on the bed. "I am dead and you are not."

"Right."

"You look awful. Wanna talk about it?"

Sky really didn't. She wished Kat had brought weed and they could instead escape her room, climb to the roof, and smoke and talk shit all night— but somehow she knew that wasn't what Kat had come for.

"Is that why you're here?" She asked. "Cause you're worried about my looks?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I just missed you."

The room was dark, lit only by the pale moonlight that entered through the windows, and Kat was a black and white painting, her sharp angular face illuminated with moving silvery highlights. Sky could still hear Dad's uninterrupted, steady breathing from where he slept on the mattress near the door, and somewhere outside a dog was barking, she heard the windchime in the garden, the sounds of the highway some distance away. Napoleon was sitting on the bed still as a statue, only his tail moving in slow, lazy circles. His narrowed eyes took in everything and revealed nothing as Kat reached a hand and rubbed him behind the ear.

"Ahhh the little black furball of menace," Kat chuckled. "How's life?"

Napoleon began purring loudly, leaned toward Kat's touch, and somehow the normalcy of that sight cut through Sky's thoughts like a knife.

She couldn't help but wonder if she would really notice all these details if this was a dream. If she would really notice the way Napoleon's eyes reflected the pale moonlight, the way Dad snored softly, the way the clock on the wall ticked slowly, eating time, and Kat's scent that was so familiar that it made her chest ache. It was a scent rich with cinnamon and coffee, salt and wind—

Did people even dream about smells?

Or did the fact that she was able to see and feel and scent all this mean that this wasn't a dream, but that instead, this was real, that Kat was really here—?

"I missed you," she breathed, the emotion making her voice crack. "Kat— I missed you so much—"

"Hey, no chick flick moments," Kat grinned, but her eyes were sad too, even if she tried to hide it.

"Everything's gone to Hell since you died. I miss you. I miss the way things were."

"I know," Kat sighed, and her smile disappeared. "I know, it sucks."

"I don't want this to be a dream. I want to go with you this time. I'm done with this crap—"

"Who is Cody?"

Kat's question shut Sky up mid-sentence. She felt like someone had punched her in the gut. In a heartbeat all the pain, all the sorrow was back, taking her breath away. Cody— his love, his kisses, his beautiful hands, his laughter, his hair, the scent of his cologne, his blood on the sheets, his glassy, lifeless eyes, the sound of the gunshot ripping through her chest—

"What happened? Did you love him?"

"Yes," Sky breathed, her voice cracking at that simple word.

Yes. She had loved Cody, even if that love hadn't been the kind he would have deserved. Yes, she had loved him, even if he would never know now. Yes, she had loved him, even if it hadn't been enough, even if it had been too little, too late, but yes she had loved him, and Kat was the only person she could admit that truth to.

"You've kept busy. I thought you were in love with the other one, the one with the mohawk?"

"It's… a long story," Sky could barely get the words out. "Why— why are you asking about Cody?"

"No wonder you liked him. He's really cute," Kat said with a grin, leaning her back against the headboard. She let the hand that had been caressing Napoleon, fall to her lap as she crossed her long legs at the ankles. The moonlight shone off the polished leather of her heavy boots. "Short, girly-looking, but cute. I liked his smile."

It took a heartbeat for Kat's words to sink in. "Wait— you've seen him?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm here, actually. He sent a message."

Oh. Oh God—

Her heart clenched in her chest. She hadn't even dared to hope—

Cody had died thinking she didn't care. Sky had prepared herself for the fact that she would never see him again, that she would never hear from him - and yet, in every miserable, heart-wrenching moment, she had hoped he would haunt her, that he would show himself in the shadows, that she would hear his voice in the wind, that there would be something, anything, a white dove on her windowsill, a black feather on the floorboards, a message from him telling he was alright, that he didn't hate her, that he forgave her for what she had done—

Now she wasn't sure if she was ready to hear it. Her stomach clenched into a tight knot and she had to fight to get the words out.

"What did he say?"

"Something fucking cryptic. Corsican stars. Does it mean something to you? You eloped with him to the Mediterranean?"

Sky's eyes filled with tears. Corsican stars—

"It's— it's a book quote. From Cloud Atlas. I used to read it to him—"

"You read him a book?" Kat's eyebrows formed two high arcs on her forehead. "Wow, sounds kinky."

"He was— injured. I kept him company." Sky looked down, a new weight pressing her chest. She didn't want to remember those days, didn't want to think about the time Cody had been bedridden after what Hawk had done to him. His bruises, the blood in his hair, his swollen face—

Sky hadn't thought about that in a long time. Stupid. Selfish. She was sure Cody hadn't forgotten, even if she had. Cody had hated Hawk for a reason— and Sky had cheated on him with Hawk. It must have been devastating for him. No wonder he had wanted to die. What she had put him through, was unforgivable.

"Corsican stars?" Kat asked, bringing Sky back into the moment. "I don't get it. What's the quote?"

Sky shook her head, fighting the tears she could feel burning at the back of her throat. Corsican stars— She couldn't remember. The one thing Cody had wanted her to know— and she couldn't even remember the quote, couldn't understand what he had meant. He had reached out to her from the fucking afterlife, and once again she was too stupid, too slow, once again she failed him.

"I want to see him," Sky brought her eyes back up to meet Kat's gaze. "Kat, please, take me with you. I want to see him. I need to tell him that—"

"Girl, he's gone," Kat replied, her tone gentler than what Sky was used to. "He crossed the river. There's no coming back from there."

Sky cleared her throat, so tight, so sore, so hoarse. "What's— what's on the other side of the river?"

"Who knows?" Kat shrugged. "But I bet it's something awesome. I know you miss the guy, but Sky— he is gonna be fine. You need to let go."

Let go? Of Cody? Of the love she had for him, the grief, the guilt? Of the thousand memories she had of him, the little things only she knew and no one else?

Impossible. The hurt was embedded in the muscle of her heart like a dagger. The pain kept him alive, it kept her safe. If she yanked it out, what would remain?

"Let go? I haven't even let you go, and it's been two years."

"You think I don't know that?"

There was an edge to Kat's words, a sharpness in her tone, that made Sky look deeper into her black eyes. The shadows that surrounded Kat seemed to grow darker as if they reacted to her moods.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Kat shrugged and looked away. "Forget about it. Just… It sucks to see you like this. You promised to live, and this is— I don't know what this is, but girl, what you're doing is the opposite of living."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask to live, you know," Sky muttered. "I want to go with you. Cross that blasted river. I've had enough."

Kat reached a hand and gripped Sky's fingers, and her hand was warm and strong, it felt just like she remembered, just like all the thousand times before.

"Come on, you know I can't do that."

"Why not? And don't give me any bullshit about how great it is to be alive or how I should be glad or grateful, 'cause I fucking hate it."

"It can't be that bad," Kat said a bit pointedly. "At least you can still have chocolate. And booze. And you can have sex, with the mohawk boy, what's his name. All I have is… waiting."

Sky felt a pang of guilt in her chest and her cheeks heated. Everything Kat was saying was true. Sky knew she was being incredibly childish, whining about her life, when Kat had been dead for years.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that— I just… I just miss you, all the time, and it's not getting better. I'm not getting better." She let out a shaky breath, but stil,l her words came out tense. "I should be dead. It should have been me— not you, or Luke, or Cody— it should have been me. You should take me with you."

"Stop being a whiny bitch," Kat rolled her eyes. "I couldn't drag you with me even if I wanted to."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not really here. This is just a dream, and you need to wake up."

No. No! She wouldn't— She wasn't going to let go of Kat, not this time, not now that they had barely had any time to talk—

"This isn't a dream!" Sky snapped, panic rising inside of her like a tidal wave. "It's not! And don't you dare to say I need to wake up! I'm going with you—"

But she could already feel the tapestry of the dream ripping, could feel Kat's hand slipping from her own, and the wind that opened the windows and blew the curtains into the room, washed away the moonlight, the shadows, Kat's scent, her laughter—

Sky woke up, covered in a cold sweat, gasping for air, woke up into the too-bright sunlight, into the realization that Kat was gone, that it had all been just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.

She sat up and glanced around. The sun was already high up, the moon and the dark Sky were nothing more than a fading memory, and Kat— Sky swallowed, fighting the tears that wanted to break free. Kat was gone as if she had never been here at all. But Napoleon was still sitting on the bed, in the very spot he'd sat in her dream, and he was looking at Sky with narrowed, green eyes, his tail moving in big, lazy waves as he let out a very loud, very displeased meow.

"What are you trying to say?" Sky muttered and reached a hand to rub him behind the ear. "You saw her too? Was she really here?"

Her voice sounded hoarse and her mouth was as dry as the Saharan desert. In her dream, she had been talking with Kat, but in reality— Sky realized she hadn't said a word in days.

Napoleon didn't reply, just got up and hopped off the bed, probably hoping that Sky would follow him to the kitchen to give him his breakfast, which Sky had no intention of doing.

Breakfast.

Her stomach growled at the scent of coffee and toast that floated into the room through the open doorway. She couldn't remember when was the last time she ate or drank something. She had been nauseous the past days, even the thought of food had made her gag, but now—

The rich scent of coffee made her mouth water. Her head was light with hunger.

With a sigh, Sky reached to take her phone from the nightstand. There was something she had to check before she could even think about eating, the two words Kat had said— and she had to check them now, as long as she remembered, as long as the dream was still clear in her mind.

There were dozens of notifications on her phone, but she ignored them. They were probably just more insults calling her a whore, telling her to kill herself, just more of the same she already knew. She would read them later, but now—

Corsican stars, she typed into the search bar, Cloud Atlas quote.

And even if she knew that was probably nothing more than just a weird fever dream she'd had, she had to know—

Her heart almost stopped when she read the words on her screen. She was sucked back in time, into the days she had spent in Cody's room reading to him. She felt the words on her chapped lips, felt his head on her lap, her fingers running through his silken hair, she remembered the sound of her voice, the taste of the words on the tip of her tongue when she read these lines.

"I believe there is another world waiting for us, a better world. And I'll be waiting for you there. I believe we do not stay dead long. Find me beneath the Corsican stars where we first kissed."

I believe we do not stay dead long—

The tears Sky had tried to fight blurred her vision, they fell to her cheeks, to her hands, splashed onto the screen of the phone she was holding. Find me beneath the Corsican stars where we first kissed—

It was a metaphor, sure. They'd never been to Corsica. Their first kiss had been at that Halloween party, in the kitchen of Annie's house, where Cody had kissed her just because she had told him to do so, just to make Hawk jealous— and he had kissed her so sweet, so gentle, and she had been too stupid to see, to understand, to realize what it meant, that it wasn't just for show, but that he loved her.

Just four months ago, but in another lifetime. And now Cody was gone, he had crossed the river Kat had said, whatever that meant, and all Sky was left with were these cryptic words, a hole in her chest, a knowledge she would never stop searching for the Corsican stars Cody had talked about.

She didn't notice Dad in the doorway before he called her name.

"Sky, are you—?" he hesitated, and Sky looked up, saw him through her tears, saw the pain and the worry in his eyes and it broke her. What had she done to him? What had she done to everyone who loved her?

"Did you get any sleep?" He asked. "Are you feeling any better?"

Sky let go of the phone and brought her hands to wipe her cheeks, to stop the tears. Let go, Kat had said. She needed to let go, she had to do that, or at least try.

"Yeah—" She breathed, her broken voice barely more than a whisper. "And— I'm hungry. Can you maybe fix me some breakfast? I think— I need to take a shower first."

Dad tried to hide his relief, but she saw it nevertheless, saw the change in his posture, the sharp breath that made his shoulders rise.

He's been so worried. I need to apologize— to him, to Hawk, to everyone.

"Sure thing," Dad replied softly. "Nutella or bacon with your toast?"

"Both," Sky sighed and forced herself to get up. There was a whole fucking world out there waiting for her, a whole fucking world full of things she wanted nothing to do with. But Kat had been right - enough was enough.

If she wasn't going to die, she might as well try to live. Starting from today.