She must be reading my thoughts because she says in a soothing voice, “It’s okay, Thea. Tony’s dead; I identified his body myself. And your friends are all okay. Annalisa’s fine.”

Tony’s dead. He’s dead. Annalisa’s fine.

Maybe if I keep saying it over and over again it’ll feel real.

Tony is dead.

I don’t have to hide anymore. I don’t have to be scared anymore.

I don’t have to be Amelia anymore.

Mom hands me the cup of ice chips and I greedily suck on them, wishing I could chug water instead.

“What happened? I was shot?” I ask around a full mouth.

Mom continues stroking my hair away from my face, the gesture oddly comforting, motherly. Her lips wobble as she tries not to cry. “Maybe we should wait for the doctor.”

“Mom. I was shot.” It’s not a question this time.

She takes a shaky inhale. “It hit your chest cavity. They said you were incredibly lucky it didn’t puncture your lung. They fixed you up. You lost some blood from your leg, but help came before you lost too much.”

Help came? I hadn’t told anyone where I was. Agent Dylan didn’t answer his phone, and I was too scared to call the police. I remember a voice before everything went blank. Aiden? Was he really there or did I imagine him?

Mom’s stopped touching me and is now wringing her hands in front of her. It’s then, as my eyes continue to adjust to the dimness of the room, that I notice her face is makeup-free, her eyes are red, and there are dark circles under her eyes. Her hair isn’t styled and she’s in rumpled sweats. Has she been here the whole time?

She continues talking. “The police told me after that he used a nine millimeter. Those bullets stay intact instead of . . . exploding in you . . . so it could’ve been that much worse . . .” She trails off, her jaw working, her eyes watering.

She’s really affected by this, seeing me here in a hospital bed, and my eyes water on their own at the thought. I was shot. It was a 9 mm. My mom’s been by my side the whole time, crying at the thought of losing me?

“You should get some rest, Thea,” Mom says, her voice weak, tears lining her eyes again. It’s almost weird having her call me Thea. We never used our real names at home, always using our new names in case we got too comfortable and slipped while others were around. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard my actual name, the one she gave me, voiced from her lips.

Despite having tons of questions, I settle back into the pillow. “Where’s Annalisa? How did she find me?”

Mom’s fussing over me. Fixing the blankets and fluffing the pillows and pushing my hair behind my ears. She sets the ice-chip cup on the bedside table. It’s all so strangely comforting, and my eyelids grow heavier.