“Oh!” Al said gleefully. “I have a marvelous idea! Make her recall her father’s death!”

“No …” I whispered. “Lee, if you have any compassion. Please.”

But his hated voice started whispering, and I groaned, falling into myself as a mental pain cut through the physical. My dad. My dad gasping his last. The feel of his dry hand in mine, the strength gone. I had stayed, refusing to leave for anything. I was there when his breaths stopped. I was there when his soul was freed, leaving me to fend for myself far, far too early. It had made me strong, but it had left me flawed.

“Dad,” I sobbed, my chest hurting. He had tried to stay, but couldn’t. He had tried to smile, but it was broken. “Oh, Dad,” I whispered, softer as the tears welled. I had tried to keep him there with me, but I hadn’t been able to.

A black depression rose from my thoughts, pulling me into myself. He had left me. I was alone. He had gone. No one had ever come close to filling the void. No one ever would.

Sobbing, the miserable memory of that awful moment when I realized he was gone filled me. It wasn’t when they pulled me from him at the hospital, but two weeks later when I broke the school’s eight hundred meters record and I looked into the stands for his proud smile. He was gone. And that was when I knew he was dead.

“Brilliant,” Al whispered, his cultured voice soft beside me.

I did nothing as a gloved hand curved under my jaw and tilted my head up. I couldn’t see him as I blinked, but I felt the warmth of his hand. “You broke her utterly,” Al said in wonder.

Lee’s breathing was harsh. Clearly it had taken a lot out of him. I couldn’t stop crying, the tears dribbling down my cheeks, cold in the wind. Al let go of my jaw, and I curled into a ball in the rubble at his feet, uncaring of what might happen next. Oh God, my dad.

“She’s yours,” Lee said. “Take my mark off.”

I felt Al’s arms go around me, lifting me up. I couldn’t help but press into him. I was so cold, and he smelled like Old Spice. Though I knew it was Al’s twisted cruelty, I clutched at him and sobbed. I missed him. God, I missed him. “Rachel,” came my dad’s voice, pulled from my memory, and I cried all the harder. “Rachel,” it came again. “Is there nothing left?”

“Nothing,” I said around my sobbing breaths.

“Are you sure?” my dad said, gentle and caring. “You tried so hard, my little witch. You really fought him with everything and failed?”

“I failed,” I said between my sobs. “I want to go home.”