“That’s perfectly okay,” he said. “We’re not focused on how your ability interacts with other people anyway. In fact, at first, we’re going to ask you not to dreamdive at all. And, ideally, not even dream. Get your body used to normal sleep again.”

“How exactly is that going to happen?” I asked. After that horrible fight with my dad, I wanted to show him that I could fix myself without coming here. I wanted to make things better with him. But anytime I fell asleep, I just couldn’t not dreamdive. And every time I would get swept up in the wonders of the dreamworld and not notice the time passing and … well. Here I am. I wasn’t sure I even could sleep without dreaming anymore.

“You’ll be put in a room that’s specially treated to … limit Atypical abilities,” he said, hesitating slightly. “And given sleeping pills that should help you sleep without diving.

“I know, I know, it sounds scary,” he added, seeing my face. “But I promise you, it won’t hurt you at all. And you’ll most likely only be in that room for the first week.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“And then we’ll put you in the same room you stayed in the first time you were here,” he said, before softening his voice and leaning forward again. “Rose, we don’t want to take your ability away from you, or make you feel bad for using it—”

“Really? Because it feels like that’s exactly what I’m here for—”

“We just want you to use it safely,” he said, unfazed by my combativeness. “Your ability is a part of you, a beautiful part, but you can’t sleep your whole life away.”

“You get that from Dr. Bright?” I scoffed, and he flinched, which was a bit surprising. I hadn’t meant that as an insult.

“Yes, well, Joan is a very smart woman,” he said and I immediately clocked the first-name usage. There’s a story there and if I were allowed to walk in anyone’s dreams right now, I bet I could find out.

But for now, I’m in the “detox” phase of things, I guess.

I had my first dreamless sleep last night and it was … fine. I was able to sleep and I didn’t dreamdive. I even woke up at a reasonable hour.

Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

January 3rd, 2017

Dear Mark,

Finally the truth. Dr. B. and Sam brought me here—not you. I knew it. You wouldn’t betray me, not like that.

In other revelations, Wadsworth definitely does think I’m a criminal.

Attempted kidnapping, actual kidnapping, breaking into a private facility, stalking, harassment, credit card fraud, and “oh yes, you haven’t paid your taxes in, well, ever.” Her smile feels like it could rebreak my ribs.