Even at that point in my time on the Second Floor, I’d heard the rumors about Slippery Pete. How he passed up transfers, promotions. He had been there longer than anyone, and had never said a word. To learn a new skill would require new thought. To move up would mean to move on.

He took his Hell, but he wouldn’t give up his humanity.

“If you have to hold on to just one thing,” he said, “remember your last name.”

I rolled over, lowering my voice like his.

“Why? I’d much rather remember people—”

“You’re not going to stay down here like me,” he said. “You’ll move up, sooner rather than later. And if you keep moving up, you’ll get to the Fifth Floor.”

I had heard about the Fifth Floor. Private studio apartments, multiple eateries. A salary of some kind. I caught the scent of stomach acid under my fingernails and thought the Fifth Floor sounded like Heaven. Or close enough.

“If you can remember your last name, you can get out of here.”

“The Second Floor?”

“No,” Slips said. The conversation was hard for him. I could hear it in his pauses. I wondered what details of his list he was sacrificing as he spoke to me. Whose scent he had just lost.

“Out of Hell.”

I thought I’d misheard him. This was Hell. The lack of an exit was paramount to the brand.

“That’s impossible.”

“Just remember your last name,” he said, before his heavy breathing gave way to heavier snores.

I rolled onto my back again and stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. After endless kvetching, begging, and groveling on my knees, I had accepted my fate. I was in Hell, and there was nothing I could do about it. But now I saw a sliver of light through a padlocked door. Once I saw it, I could never unsee it. I could never go back to acceptance.

Maybe there was a way out.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, pulling up the memories that faded like dreams with the morning news.

I clasped my hands together.

“Harrison,” I whispered.

PART II

LILY

AT SEVENTEEN, LILY WAS a stranger to forgetting. She was too young for it to creep in uninvited, and things were good enough that she had yet to invite it. On the contrary, at that age, Lily wanted to remember everything. She’d be at a sleepover with her friends or on the school lawn with Silas as he kissed her neck, and she’d take a mental snapshot, telling herself, You’ll want to remember this. It started with something her mother used to say as she leaned against the doorframe of Lily’s bedroom, watching her get ready for bed. You should enjoy this body of yours, Lillian. Before you know it, it will all be gone.