But the emotions coursing through me are nothing like joy. They’re irritation that I can hardly hear myself think over the pounding in my head. They’re sorrow that I’ll never see my sister again. They’re regret that I didn’t tell my parents I loved them before I ran out the door in such a hurry. They’re heartache that Finn never got to be my first kiss. They’re resentment that Lucy guilted me into stopping at that gas station. And they’re anger that a stranger with a gun ended my life before it ever really began.

This isn’t peace—this is a whirlwind of rage and torment building up inside me with nowhere to go.

I need somewhere to go. I need somewhere to think.

The door slides open when I approach it, and I step into the hallway half expecting to be scolded for wandering, but there’s nobody there. On my left is a brightly lit room, the low murmur of voices muffled by the distance.

The desperation to be alone takes over my impulses. My body shifts to the right, and my feet are moving before I’ve even formulated a plan of where I’m going.

Maybe I don’t need a plan. Maybe I just need to find a space where things can make some amount of sense.

The hallway curves and stretches over and over again until I find myself at a wide set of stairs that leads down to a beautiful, circular water fountain. It’s nearly as wide as the room and more ornate than the pillars on the balcony. Hundreds of white lights seem to erupt from the marbled edge, casting peculiar shapes across the smooth surface.

Inching closer, I focus on the sculpture in the center of the pool. The rock has been left uncut in some places and chiseled in others. A collection of grooves and twisting shapes explodes from a pedestal, veiled by a steady trickle of water.

I don’t hear the stranger approaching until it’s too late.

“What do you see?” he asks, his voice like velvet.

I spin around, startled, and see a young man with golden hair and warm brown eyes watching me carefully. Dressed in a white uniform that looks more lawyer than doctor, his complexion has the same iridescent sheen as the woman from the other room.

He motions toward the statue as if to clarify his question. “Everyone sees something different. They say it reveals what was in your heart the moment you arrived in Infinity.” He lets his hand drift back to his side. “So, what do you see?”

“A bunch of rocks,” I reply uneasily.

His smile is mechanical, like the woman’s. “Hearts are known to tell a lie or two. Maybe you need to look a bit closer, but this time with an open mind.” He senses my doubt and tilts his head. “Humor me?”