Within These Walls

Life After Dark: 17 (WTW Sequel)

Willow snatched her arm back so quickly that I was left clutching air. "You have no right to accuse me of something like that. You really think I would do anything to put your life in danger?"

"There was a time when I would've said no, but I don't know you anymore. And the fact that you're going to keep lying right to my face—"

"I don't know anything!" she hissed. "Whatever you think I've done—you're wrong. How can you be sure you didn't dream up my involvement in this? Or—or maybe your brain is getting the past mixed up with the present. We both know you're not stable."

"Is that what you think of me?"

"No, I just mean—" The apologetic look on her face changed into something cool and distant. "Take it however you like. The fact of the matter is that you're the last person who should be trusting her brain right now."

"No thanks to you!"

She shook her head sadly. "You should be thanking me. Losing your memories was the only shot you had at being normal. You're better off now than you were a week ago. At least you're here and not trapped in that place. The less you remember, the less you have to be stressed out about, and the better your chances of being yourself instead of their puppet."

"Am I supposed to believe you have nothing but good intentions for me?" I snapped angrily, my eyes brimming with tears. Dammit. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but I couldn't seem to get a grip on my emotions. Being in that place—no, remembering that place had changed me. I felt like I was spiraling down a drain and I had nothing to hold on to.

Willow held my gaze for a long moment. "It doesn't matter what you want to believe."

Then she brushed by me and joined the others. End of conversation.

I'm annoyed all over again as I remember that encounter. Her self-righteous indignation, the way she manipulated our conversation until I felt like the bad guy. She did force me to follow the shadow, and no amount of protests will make me forget that. The million-dollar question is why. To hurt me? If so, why bother telling the others to track the phone that she herself gave me? A few more minutes and I would've been sealed within the crystals, as good as dead.

But she could've said something in the first place instead of sending me chasing a literal rabbit down a hole.

I glance down at my phone, remembering the other mysterious person in my life. I send him a text.

Why are you helping us kill one of you?

I'm expecting an ambiguous or impersonal response at most, so it nearly bowls me over when he responds with: I don't support genocide no matter who is perpetuating it.

My heart lurches, and I read the text again.

Me: Is that what they want? Genocide?

Him: They want to survive. Good intentions. Wrong methods.

Me: Your conscience is telling you that what your people are doing is wrong?

I'm not sure if I can call it that. Do they even have feeling?

Him: My conscience doesn't dictate the truth.

Me: I'll take that to mean you don't want to talk about yourself anymore.

His silence is all the answer I need.

I underestimated what it would do to me to remember my time in the glowing green crystals. Even with Willow's caution, with Janie's hesitation, with Adam's ominous warnings, and especially with Marcus's hostile behavior, I believed it couldn't possibly be as bad as everyone made it seem. I was wrong.