“What will?” I asked, taking his offered hand, letting him pull me to my feet.

“The doubt. It’ll wear off and you’ll realize the answer to that question is a very simple no.”

“You don’t have your ability, Damien,” I pointed out. “You never have around me. I’m not being influenced by anything.”

He gave a dark, hollow laugh.

“As far as we know,” he said. “But maybe it’s not my power. Maybe it’s just … me.”

“Damien—”

“My name is Robert, actually,” he said abruptly. “You can call me Robert. I mean, you can call me whatever you want, it doesn’t matter, because as soon as I get in that car, you won’t be calling me anything.”

“What do you want to be called?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” Another honest response. I had just gotten good at reading him, only for him to walk out of my life forever.

May 29th, 2017

Dear Mark,

I went back. To the AM.

I wish I could explain exactly why I did it. I told Rose it was because of Blaze, because I wanted to help her find a cure for her dad. And maybe it was partly because of that—I do want her to be happy, but I knew that Blaze wasn’t there yet. I wouldn’t have wanted to see him even if he had been. He wasn’t there when I erased everyone’s memory of me. I’m terrified to find out what he remembers.

But I never should have asked Rose to come. I’m not sure why I did.

Watching her break … I wanted to break too. I haven’t done that in so long. Let everything out. From what I remember, it feels absolutely terrible in the moment but then … there’s relief. There’s feeling lighter. Feeling better. Is that how things are supposed to be? Are things supposed to get better with each passing year? Or is life just a slow descent into misery? Fast in my case, I guess.

It was so familiar, watching her sob into the forest floor. Like a recurring dream that you don’t have for years and then one night, it grabs hold of you and you wake up with a familiar taste on your tongue. Except that is a dream I have—dreams of dirt graves and tall trees and people I love looking at me like I’m the worst thing to ever happen to them. And maybe I was. God, I hope I was the worst thing to happen to them. I hope I’m the worst thing to happen to Rose. I hope I’m the worst thing to happen to you. You all survived me, maybe a little rougher around the edges than you were before, but alive. Alive and ready to move on beyond me, without me.