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I tried to open them again.

I felt him reach across me and release my seatbelt.

More voices joined his.

“Hang in there, Noa,” Reuben coached.

Where did he think I was going? And then the sweetness of oblivion swept over me. If Reuben was here, then everything would be okay. I knew that. It had to be. Reuben was—safe.

A steady beepmet my ears. An echo deep in the recesses of my subconscious.

“Noa.”

The voice was distant. Male. Familiar and yet, not familiar.

I struggled to open my eyes.

“That’s it. Noa, c’mon.” They were coaching me to wake up, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to sleep. There was a peace in sleeping. Still, I tried to open my eyes again. This time I saw the blurry form bent over me. I smelled something sterile, with a strong whiff of coffee.

The walls were yellow.

I noticed that. Probably because I wasn’t a huge fan of butter yellow. Sunflower yellow, sure, but not butter.

The weird things a person considers when waking up. I was more aware of the shades of yellow than I was of who sat by my bed. Then I felt the IV in my arm. I sensed the pillow behind my head. My shoulder throbbed. Pain. Stiff.

It wasdéjà vu.

I’d been here before. After I’d clawed myself out of the shallow grave and run through the woods to find help. My body scraped and battered. I had cried so many tears, sobbed so many hours, that there was no emotion when I’d finally come across someone to help.

An old man had thrown his work coat around my body to shield me. He’d taken me to the hospital. I’d had an IV then too. And I had hurt. And then, I had forgotten.

I couldn’t forget this time.

Not again.

I would lose myself if I forgot again. So I forced myself to open my eyes wider.

Reuben Walker.

He stood leaning over me. Behind him was Livia, her brown eyes wide, her blue hair as beautiful as the morning sky.

Alan.

Sophia.

“Lilian and Rosalie?” I struggled to sit up and pain shot through every inch of my body. A sore aching pain that indicated I had been through another traumatic event.

“Shhh, shh, shh.” Reuben’s hand on my shoulder reassured me. Curiously, I wasn’t even uncomfortable that he touched me. Instead, I relaxed into my pillow, into the mattress, and let him tug the thin hospital blanket higher over my chest.

I remembered now. Alan and his stupid little gun. His quest to reinvent his family. His conquering of the fear of snakes by laying them outside the windows of his victims. His wanting to bring his sister back from the dead.

Back from the dead.

I wished all the innocents could come back from the dead.

A tear leaked out of my eye. “Where are Lilian and Rosalie?” That’s all I cared about. If they hadn’t made it—if Alan had?—

“They’re fine.” Reuben’s reassurance was not unlike getting washed away by a tidal wave of relief. “We found them in Alan’s basement. He’d built a mock home there. He’d literally been recreating the perfect family unit—or what he thought it was.” Reuben reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I don’t think he even realized he did it.