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Lulu’s eyes widened, and I expected some trite comment. But she surprised me. “You look like your mother,” she said.

What?

But my mother is—was—beautiful.

Lulu smiled again, more warmly this time, and left the room.

Dylan hesitated. “Dr. Mills will be here soon.”

“Okay.”

“You can stay in bed if you want.”

“No, I’ll come downstairs.” I didn’t want the psychiatrist in my room.

Dylan stood up. “I’ll go and get dressed,” he said and followed Lulu.

Exhaling an enormous sigh of relief, I fell back onto my pillows.

Okay, there was so much to process here.

I recalled the image from my dream: my mother and father holding Billy’s hands, waving, smiling, and blowing me kisses. My mother’s goodbye. Perhaps they knew, perhaps they knew I would be okay. Maybe that’s what the dream meant. The thought was comforting. Maybe that was why the white noise had disappeared.

I looked around at the rose-tinted walls of my new room. They glowed in the midmorning sun and the effect was serene. It was a rare moment of tranquility, and I basked in it while my mind drifted back to this morning in the kitchen with the strange boy.

Why was he in my dream too? I’d conjured him up, what, three—no, four—times while awake, and twice in my dreams. Dylan couldn’t see him; therefore, the boy must be a product of my deluded mind. How else would he know my full name?

The memory of the medicine bottles flying off the worktop flooded back. How did that happen? Was it my misery manifesting itself as a supernatural ability, or was it him? He’d been so angry. Why was he angry? Maybe he was the personification of my anger. But why would I conjure up a boy to represent my anger?

I felt the blood drain from my face. Of course, it was my anger at being left behind.

I should be with my family.

But then I used some weird inexplicable force to stop myself from taking those tablets? Why did I do that? Oh, it was so confusing and didn’t make any sense.

And now I had to see a psychiatrist. Given the circumstances, perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea. But I couldn’t divulge my delusion to her, could I?

Throwing back my duvet, I clambered out of bed and headed for the shower.

After my shower, I dressed and there was a knock on my bedroom door as I was slipping into my shoes.

“Come in.”

Dylan peeked around the door. “You’re up and dressed. Good. Dr. Mills is here.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so tranquil.

“Are you ready?”

I hesitated as anxiety flared in my gut.

Dylan came into the room. “What is it, Emily?”

“She won’t send me away, will she?” I whispered, not wanting to voice my fear.

“Good God, no. Don’t worry.” Reaching out, he squeezed my shoulder. “Just talk to her and tell her how you feel. That’s all you need to do. She’s just here to listen.”

“Okay.”