“Is she kind?” I say, and he thinks about it, then nods. “When can I go home?” he asks, and I shrug because we’re not allowed to give definite answers. We have to be vague, so he doesn’t think this is forever.

“I want to see my mummy,” he says.

“My mummy likes to spoil you, doesn’t she?” He nods, and I say, “Does your mummy spoil you?”

The boy shakes his head, and I’m happy for half a second, because this is important. It’s called planting seeds of doubt, and I know I’ve done a good job.

“Do you have anyone to play with at home?” I ask, and I feel stupid because I shouldn’t have said “home,” not unless I’m talking about here.

That’s a banned word, but there’s so much to remember and I’m not as good as I thought.

If Mum was listening, I’d be in trouble, but she’s not behind the door, so I relax and watch the boy move some toys around the floor. He looks like he doesn’t know how to play, so I show him, and, sometimes, he laughs, and it sounds good because none of us have made that noise for ages. I don’t laugh back because I can’t anymore, but it still feels nice to hear it.

Afterward, Mum says, “Well done, Amy,” and then she locks him in.

IIII IIII IIII III

I can’t sleep because I can hear Mum’s voice through the wall. She reads to him every night, like she used to read to both of us.

I would climb into Will’s bed, and Mum would say, “Is there room for three?” and we’d somehow all fit, and my brother would fall asleep to the stories I knew by heart.

I used to love those books, but not now. Mum does the same voices, and I want to bang on the wall and scream, “Stop!” because they’re our stories. They’re Will’s stories!

I know when Logan is asleep because the mumbling finishes and the lock slides across.

“Lights out,” she whispers, kissing me and waiting for my smile. I try my best because she won’t leave until I’ve done it.

Every night I pray to Will, because he must be listening. It’s too scary to think that someone can suddenly be nothing, so I don’t.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I made the biggest mistake, and I hate myself. I wish you’d come back. I wish there were time machines and I could change everything, because Creatures was a stupid game and there was no queen and I should never have left you.”

I whisper these things to the dark and see him there. He looks different now. He doesn’t run to me or giggle.

He looks sleepy, and I love him, and I’m so sorry.