My heart surges as my stomach pushes up into my throat. A baby like the ones left on our porch? Here? Now?

Who left it? Absurdly, I think of Quentin torturing me from the grave. I think of Jasper doing it in some twisted act of betrayal. My mind spins frantically forward.

Wait. No. I will not do this. This must be exactly their point—whoever they are. This must be what they want: to make me suspicious and paranoid. But I will not line up the suspects. I will not try to get to the root of this mystery. No more. Not after everything. The whole point is to make me afraid, or to make me lose my mind for real. And it will not work. Not this time. I will show them. I am not scared. I am not going to hide. Not anymore.

I jam my feet into my flip-flops, grab the baby by a leg, and yank open the door to my room. I stride hard down the long hallway, heading straight for the common room. My heels strike the ground harder with each and every step. Boom, boom, boom. Until it hurts. Until I am glad for the pain.

Go to hell. Go to hell. Go to hell. I chant in my head. You will not make me feel worse. You will not make me more afraid. You will not make me hide or doubt myself. And I do not care who you are. I do not care why. Because I decide. I choose how I feel.

My face is hot when I finally race out into the common room and the security guys startle to attention. The Wolf is there. If I were closer, I could probably feel him thinking his awful thoughts about me, imagining my neck in his hands. But I am glad he is here. I want him to see how little I care, too.

My eyes move from the guards to Ramona and Becca, standing next to each other toward the back of the room. And Kelsey is there, stretched out on the couch, a book in her hands. All of the girls are there. All watching me. It’s hard to believe we have any connection anymore. Not with the way they are all looking at me.

Becca and Ramona are shaking their heads a little. Open mouths. Appalled. Almost as if they are saying: Don’t. Don’t do it. Whatever you’re thinking. Dr. Haddox is at the back, talking to Elise, and he looks concerned. Probably that he will have to act again to stop me.

Their eyes are all still on me when I finally stop in the center of the room and lift that baby high over my head. Despite their staring. Despite their disapproval. And just like that, a valve opens up inside me, and out pours only rage.