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He sits on a bed in this place, and his arms and his legs are bound.
The screams around us are deafening.
Dare’s eyes are wide and dark,
Haunted,
Haunted,
Haunted.
“Mum?” he asks, his eyes searching the wall behind us, and his tiny voice is hopeful.
A nurse hustles past us, and gives him a shot in the arm. “Hush, boy,” she tells him. “You know your mum is dead. She chose you instead of your brother, and then she went crazy. It’s your fault.”
Dare’s eyes cloud over before he closes them. “I know she’s dead because of me.”
“And you’re here because of that,” the nurse agrees. “You’re a little monster. If it weren’t for you, your mum would be alive.”
The hooded boy turns to me and his eyes are pained and he has Dare’s eyes.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
“The nurse is wrong,” he tells me in a strange tone. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be alive and Dare would never have been here. You can change it, Calla. You can change it. Do it. Do it.”
He reaches out his hand to me,
And I reach to take it,
Then I open my eyes.
And we never left Finn’s bedroom.
We. Never. Left.
And I’m alone.
What is happening to me?
I do need help.
I need Dare.
Because he was so hurt, and I don’t know why, but I know I’m hurting him now, more and more each day as I keep pushing him away.
He didn’t deserve that.
He doesn’t deserve this.
I’m reeling,
I’m reeling.
The room presses down on me, swirling and bending and stifling. I lunge for the door, and find Dare on the veranda, a drink in his hand as he stares absently into the night.
“Dare… I…”
