by Tracey Ward (Author)
I'm falling. I've done that a lot this year. I've fallen for lies. Fallen in love. Now I'm falling through the water in the lake like I've done so often before, but this time is different. This time is going to be my last time. For everything. My last breath is rising in a rush of bubbles that hurry to the surface like champagne escaping a bottle. My last sight is the sun watching watery overhead. My last touch is the liquid running through my fingers like silk. Like time. Like every ethereal and untouchable thing in the world. Like laughter. And my last thought... my last thought is of him. Of Kyle. I'll miss him. I hope he'll miss me. It's a strange hope to have for the guy who just murdered me. They say that when you die, your brain stays active for seven minutes. Well, my name is Grace Murray, and these are my minutes...