The walls close in on me, four of them and the ceiling, coming closer, swallowing me, crushing me. I cover my ears and rock back and forth because amid everything, I still hear my brother’s voice.
It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok.
I can’t keep hearing voices.
Not even Finn’s.
I can’t.
I can’t.
I’m sane, Goddamnit.
I’m overwhelmed by Dare’s lies, by my fear… and by the very real fact that I’m so very fragile.
“Her hold on reality is tenuous.”
It’s a murmur that cuts through my panic.
I pause, halting all movement, not even breathing. The whisper comes from the other side of the door.
“No, I don’t want to do that. Not yet.” The voice, hissing and firm, and it can’t be real. There’s no way. I’m frozen as it envelopes me, as reality slithers further away.
“We have to. She wouldn’t want this.”
Confused, I stare at the wooden planes of the door, at the grain.
Is this really happening?
Or is my mind playing tricks on me yet again?
I gulp and draw in a shaky breath.
“Anything could send her back over the edge,” the familiar voice cautions, his voice careful and low and familiar. There’s no way it can be him. There’s no way.
Even still, I want to wrap myself in the sound, to hide in it, to escape in it.
But I can’t.
Because the answer is immediate.
“That’s why
we have to handle her carefully.”
Handle me?
The door opens and I look up to find three shadows looming over me.
My father.
Dare.
And someone I can’t see, a faceless, nameless figure lurking in the shadows. I peer closely, trying to see if it’s him, even while knowing in my heart that it can’t be Finn.
It’s impossible.
I scoot backward until my spine is against my brother’s bed. I’m a skittish fawn, and they’re my hunters. I’m prey because I’m in danger, and I don’t know why.