Page 1 of Before We Break Again
Prologue
Halsey
In the beginning,there were two of us.
We were inseparable, two best friends who shared everything—our secrets, our fears, our dreams.
Summers were spent by the lake, where the water mirrored the sky like a secret world made just for us.We felt free, as if the universe had paused, allowing us to linger in those moments forever.In the fall, we’d leap into piles of crisp, golden, red, and brown leaves, the scent of earth and decay in the air, laughing until our cheeks ached, the wind swirling around us, carrying the promise that anything was possible.
When winter arrived, it brought with it those rare, precious days of snow.We’d lace up our skates and glide across the frozen lake, the cold biting at our noses, our breath misting the air as we traced endless lines in the ice.But sometimes, we’d just sit in silence, watching the world turn pure and white, as if the snow could bury everything we wanted to escape from.In those moments, the cold was almost comforting, like a blanket hiding all the things we couldn’t face.
And then there was spring.Spring was for wandering—finding the first flowers poking through the thawed earth, marveling at the way life returned as if by some kind of magic.It made us dream of the world beyond our small town, imagining all the places we’d visit one day, like explorers on the verge of the greatest adventure of our lives.
We shared it all—lemonade, sunshine, and dreams.
My friendship with Santos Calderón-Bélanger was unlike anything else.Together, we created our own world—an enchanted place where everything felt brighter, where reality couldn’t reach us.Santos needed an escape from the hell he was living in, and I needed to believe in something bigger than the small town that threatened to swallow us whole.
Thenhecame along.
He was a little broken, frayed at the edges, like he’d already seen too much, carried too much for someone his age.
The day I met Dustin Haverbrook is burned into my memory.I was almost eleven, dropping off cookies Mom had baked for his grandparents.He was twelve, just like Santos, but there was something different about him—he felt older, as if life had already shown him its darkest corners.
His forest green eyes—so dark, so hollow—stirred something inside me, a twist of sadness and curiosity I couldn’t fully understand.It was like his gaze held all the sorrow of the world, a quiet grief that lingered behind every glance.
Santos and I made himours.
Dusty became one of us.A part of us.
Butusas one entity, one soul—one heart—didn’t make sense to most people.
They said three was too much.
Three was an anomaly.
A sin.
The world couldn’t understand what we had, so they tore it apart, piece by fragile piece.In the end, I was dragged away from the place that had made me, the place that had created the very essence of who I was—Blissful Meadows.They said it was for my own good, that I needed to be saved from the broken boys who were “tarnishing” me, making me something I shouldn’t be.Making me a sinner.
And just like that, it was over.
Us.
Our love.
Our dreams.
Everything was gone.
In the end, I was alone—separated from my heart, torn from the love I had found, stripped of the safety I had built with my guys, like fragile walls crumbling under the scrutiny of the world.The laughter, the dreams, the promises we’d made to each other—they were gone.All that remained was the hollow space where everything we once shared used to be, a distant memory that seemed almost too painful to touch.
The shattered pieces of the world we built together lay scattered around.And I don’t think we’ll ever be the same.
ChapterOne
Santos
“How are you feeling, mijo?”Mom’s voice breaks through the phone the moment I answer.She’s speaking English, which only means one thing—Dad is nearby.He’s always hated when we speak Spanish, paranoid that we’re talking behind his back.It’s ridiculous, really.Mom would never talk badly about anyone—least of all him.She’s the type to let you know exactly how she feels, face-to-face, no filters needed.
