Behind a tilted sign near a sea of shoes and several fallen mannequins is a small flashlight. It’s on, but it’s weak, casting more shadows than light.

I put my hand on the soft fur of Pooky Bear and debate whether to run away or to investigate. I don’t feel like running to Raffe, so I hop onto my feet and walk quietly in the direction of the flashlight.

Before I can get there, someone steps into the light.

It’s Paige. She’s still in her oversized T-shirt that hangs crookedly off one shoulder and falls past her knees. Her tennis shoes are almost black with dried blood.

The dim light hits the hollows of her face, emphasizing her skeletal features beneath the stitches and casting long shadows from her hair onto her neck. She walks toward the mannequins like she’s sleepwalking. She looks mesmerized by something on the floor.

I take another look at the mannequins and realize that one of them is a man.

He’s lying on his back on top of the scattered shoes with his head and shoulders mixed with mannequin limbs, as if he collapsed onto them. One pale hand stretches toward the fallen flashlight while the other clutches a scrap of paper over his chest. He must have died of a heart attack.

Paige kneels down beside him like she’s in a trance. She’ll see me if she looks up, but she’s too preoccupied with the man. Maybe she smells people now the way a predator might smell prey.

I know what she’s about to do.

But I don’t stop her.

I want to. Oh, Christ, I want to.

But I don’t.

My eyes burn and sting with tears. This is too much for me. I want my mom.

All this time, I’ve been thinking that I’m the strong one, that I’m making the hard choices and carrying the weight of responsibility for my family on my shoulders. But I realize now that the toughest choices, the ones that will haunt us for the rest of our lives, are ones that my mom is still sheltering me from.

Isn’t that what happened when the Resistance caught Paige like an animal? I was still trying to feed her soup and hamburgers while my mother already knew what she needed. Wasn’t she the one who took Paige out there to the grove so she could find a victim for her?

I can’t even look away. My feet feel leaden, and my eyes refuse to close. This is who my sister is now.

Her lip curls, flashing the tips of her razor-grafted teeth.

I hear a faint groan. My heart almost stops. Did that come from the man or from Paige? Is he alive?

Paige is close enough to be able to tell. She lifts his arm up to her mouth, showing all of her razor teeth.