Don't give up on me now. I'm sorry. I guess that's an odd thing to say. Because isn't that what I'm doing? Giving up?

I didn't feel physically sick. But mentally. My mind was twisting in so many ways. (...) We once saw a documentary on migraines. One of the men interviewed used to fall on his knees and bang his head against the floor, over and over during attacks. This diverted the pain from deep inside his brain, where he couldn't reach it, to a pain outside that he had control over.

I want to look back. To look over my shoulder and see the Stop sign with huge reflective letters, pleading with Hannah. Stop!

I was too weak to walk. At least, I thought I was too weak. But in truth, I was too weak to try.

Because our lies matched. It was a sign.

I decided to find out how people at school might react if one of the students never came back.

And concentrating on the spot where the two spindles should be is the closest I get to looking Hannah's eyes as she tells my story.