I select another rock and lob it at the wall, striking the clock to the right. “Thomas Sanders. Subject two. I terminated his life at four twenty-seven.”

In a violent production, I continue to destroy the clocks. One by one, I break the faces that have hung in suspension since the conception of my project. Mary’s clock stares at me, the only other timepiece with frozen hands, the time displaying the moment I received the call of her murder.

I truly believed I was avenging her—that it was love for my twin sister that drove me to such extreme measures. Now, I wonder if denial for who she was, the choice to refuse to accept her character, was the driving force.

“In the end, we remained a reflection of each other, didn’t we?” I say out loud, laughing at the absurdity. My sister and I, twin monsters. Why didn’t Grayson come for me next?

Because that’s not who I was.

My fingers curl around the rock, gripping to the point of pain. I pitch the river stone at the clock and smash the glass, watching as the pendulum crashes to the floor. The room fades darker.

One rock left.

I pick it up and note the weight in my hand before I stalk toward Blakely.

No longer playing the victim, she slides up against the wall to stand before me. The thin shirt is still damp and clings to her body. She wraps her arms around her waist as she watches me cautiously.

We’re shrouded by darkness, nearly all light sources have gone extinct. I tap the bare bulb as I pass underneath, and the light swings back and forth. As I near Blakely, her face illuminates and then fades into shadow. Light, dark. Light, dark.

The still quiet of the room is eerie, the constant ticking has gone silent, all except the faint tick tick tick of her clock in the background.

When the light swings away, leaving her in the pitch-black of the room, I hear her scramble off the wall. She makes for the door, and I circle my arm around her waist to halt her escape.

“This is what you wanted,” I tell her. “No more lies. Just the harsh, candid truth between us.”

I thrust her back against the wall and grip her shoulder, my forearm pressed to her chest to prevent her from moving. Breaths ragged, she stares down at the rock in my hand before meeting my eyes with a spark of defiance.

“That’s my rock,” she says, needing me to confirm it.

Arm braced across her chest, I bring the stone up so she can see it.

“What time is it, Alex?” Her throat dips with a forced swallow. “What time do I get before you eliminate me?”

I keep the rock held aloft. “Since I broke my watch, time no longer has meaning here.”