Another movement, and I spun again, this time seeing Bee across the room, still in her T-shirt and jeans. Even though I’d told her to leave, I practically sagged with relief when I saw she was there. “It’s some kind of illusion thing,” I told her. “Making me see things, and—”

My words broke off in a shriek as something suddenly thrust through Bee’s right side. I saw the glint of light on metal, the circle of red that began to spread across her shirt, her mouth open in a silent scream.

“Bee!” I practically threw myself across the room, only to come up hard against another mirror. Now Bee was gone, and I could only see myself again.

Panting, I turned in a circle, looking all around me. Earlier it had seemed like there were two mirrors, but now it was like the entire room was lined in them, reflecting dozens of me, all terrified, all confused. And then I wasn’t in the glass anymore. It was my parents again, crying out for me even though I couldn’t hear them. It was Bee, a sword through her back; Ryan, lying in a pool of blood like Saylor at Magnolia House; my aunts, their eyes blank, their minds not their own. Even Leigh-Anne was there, dressed the same as she was that night we’d gone through the Fun House all those years ago. She was pale, but smiling like she always had been, and for some reason, that hurt the most.

Swirling pictures of people I loved, scared or hurt or dead, appeared over and over again until I wanted to put my hands over my eyes and curl up on the floor. I’d been prepared to fight someone, but this? This was more than anyone could handle, superpowers or not. The room seemed to have gotten colder, so cold I was shaking, and I felt like my mind was going to snap.

A glow filled the room, coming from somewhere at the end of the corridor, and when I made myself open my eyes, I saw that there was one more horrible vision for me to take in.

David floated a few feet ahead of me, but I knew it wasn’t actually David. It was another illusion. But it didn’t feel fake. It felt entirely too real, watching him as he looked down at me, his face blank, his eyes nothing but glowing orbs.

Then suddenly I stood in front of me. I wasn’t dressed like I was tonight—jeans, T-shirt, cardigan—but in a dress. A white one that looked like my Cotillion dress, but couldn’t be, since I’d burned that thing. It had still had splashes of blood on it, and every time I’d looked at it, I’d remembered what happened to Saylor, how although I’d saved David that night, I’d lost so much else.