“You obviously still need it. If this is all a social experiment to see how long it takes a nice guy to snap, why not just give me the snap reflex? Give me the sadistic mind that makes people not want to fuck with you—maybe I could use it. The final answer can’t just be leaving people tormented or dead. What do you win?”

That glint of humanity erupts in him—the abandoned child that wants the same friendship as everybody else. It’s exactly how I need him to be to defeat him. I have to get inside his head and access his most vulnerable thoughts. Master his motivations, his weaknesses, and his fears.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t fight me if I possessed you right now?”

If it means stopping this cruel game before Allister gets hurt . . .

“I wouldn’t fight you,” I answer.

He doesn’t need to hear it twice. Sawyer rushes into my skin and doesn’t come out the other side.

Sawyer

His blood fills my arms like a Jacuzzi blaster.

And the park is vibrant now, free from that blackness on the outskirts of everything. Monkey bars, picnic tables, and thorny shrubs explode with color under the ice-white slice of moon.

I drop like a deadweight off the swing and into the wood chips. Each crawl to the carousel is like dragging a billion pounds. I become steady on my way up the railing. The wind is cold and nibbling and sways me from one side to another, up the concrete stairs, and back to the neighborhood.

The beauty of manual action. To move from place to place, knowing that where you came from and where you’re going won’t disappear. Everything is here. It’s not going anywhere.

Back on the sidewalk, homes and roads spread out as far as I can see. I throw a wink and a smile at a Speed Limit 15 sign. The age I was when Bill left.

I used to want a house like a normal kid, with a garage and neighbors. I wanted a mother who made dinner and sat with me to eat it. Yes, early on, I wanted that, to experience what it felt like.

When I arrive at Jake’s home, I’m crying happy tears.

No one is on the main floor to see me rip the butcher’s knife out the kitchen drawer.

I run upstairs. I barge into the brother’s bedroom without knocking. I reach under his bed and steal his pistol. I’m halfway out the door when he realizes what I’ve taken.

“Jake? What the fuck are you doing?”

“I am not Jake.”

I’m trotting down the stairs so fast I almost trip. He’ll never catch me.

I’m jumping into the mother’s truck. I’m sticking the key in the ignition, pulling off.