Of course not. Then we’d all be dead. More shaky ground. Like, what was I really defending? Didn’t all that Smith weaponry at Unca Joe make us feel safer? Hadn’t Rousseau himself carried a rifle out to the funerals? But Daniel? Ready to crack a man’s head open without a sign of remorse? Somehow, this was unbearable.

I sensed the familiar early signs: the sped-up heartbeat, the tightness in my chest, the circular thinking. Not a good time for a panic attack, but then, it never is. Pacing each breath, I turned away and wedged myself into the corner of the couch, longing for the walls of my den, not these walls that seemed to be closing in.

Daniel pushed off from the door. “He’ll probably survive.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?”

“Quiet!” Dark Boy quick-stepped to the window to draw the drape shut tight. The last trace of light abandoned the room. The air grew thick and stale. Outside, vehicles approached.

“That’ll be them,” Daniel murmured.

A draft stirred as Dark Boy powered past me to ease the bars into place.

Trapped. In total darkness. With a man I no longer trusted, and one I never had. I curled tighter into the corner of the sofa. Calm down. Disappear. But the usual techniques were not doing the job. Deep breaths only made my head spin. The heat and darkness pressed in, like an arm heavy against my chest.

Like many arms, pulling at me, holding me down . . .

Gasping, I bolted for the door. I knew where the bars were. I could get them open before they could stop me. I ran smack into Dark Boy.

“What the . . . !”

A flailing of hands and fists, his, mine. Then he caught my wrists, twisting them behind me, pinning me tight against his side as I bucked and twisted in his grip.

From nearby, a hissed “Quiet!”

“Here! You take her!”

Even in darkness, they kept hold of me. Except my feet.

“Ow! Stop, Glim! What are you doing?”

Fighting for my life. Far from here, yet not so. In a room like this one, only not. Salt spray in the air. Fear like acid on my tongue. I’ve sensed this place a thousand times in nightmare, invisible, only imminent. All I know of it is that I am not alone there. Now its image blooms behind my eyes in every terrifying detail. The row of ripped-out sinks, the shattered mirrors, the flickering overheads. The baying whoops echoing along the tiles. I am running, ducking. I am prey.

Hide! Here inside the stalls! Get small. Disappear. They’ll ignore you and go away.

Someone is moaning. Loud. Louder.

“What the fuck? Jesus, Dan, shut her up!”

Get away! Get away! Don’t touch me!

Harsh breath in my ear. Arms cinching my chest. Hand pressed to my mouth.

“Shh! Glim! Shh! They’ll hear you!”

Air! No air!