Kael, however …

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” he says, his eyes locked on mine and his features tight with concern. “Is this really wise? What if we discover something worse than what you already believe? What if you’ve forgotten for a reason?”

“Nothing can be worse than not knowing the truth,” I tell him, acknowledging his warning but unwilling to pander to my emotions. I’ll deal with any repercussions later. Right now, I need answers.

Turning back to Smith, I add, “Do it.”

Kael’s eyes remain on mine as Smith says, “Let’s find out what happened to Alyssa Scott.”

His words are vague—they could mean anything—so I have to hope his intent is focused on what I asked as light bursts from him and I fall through the unending dark just like last time. It’s uncomfortable, having all my senses deadened, but at least this time I know what to expect, and that it’ll soon come to an end.

Once the blackness fades into the gray mist and then disappears entirely, I find myself standing in a familiar room— with familiar people.

This is the house I lived in with my parents—the house I was convinced they died in.

They’re here in the living room. My mum and dad.

My younger self is here, too.

So is Riley.

And so is Director Falon, of all people.

My mum is wearing her favorite Sunday dress, the yellow one with white daisies. My dad is wearing a starched white shirt with pressed pants.

Seeing them here, seeing what they’re wearing, seeing the age my memory-self is, I know this day.

This is the day I killed them.

And now, I’m going to watch it play out.

I’m going to find out what really happened.

I’m vaguely aware of Kael and Smith arriving beside me, but I’m too busy focusing on the scene. I hear Kael suck in a breath—whether at the sight of Riley or Falon, I’m not sure. He said Liana only saw my parents and me in this vision. There was no sign of my brother or the director, so already it’s clear that whatever we’re about to witness is going to change everything we thought was true.

“I don’t know what you two are eating, but every time I see you, I swear you’ve grown inches,” Falon says to my memory-self and Riley.

I’m stunned by the easy familiarity between us. Stunned by the smile my fifteen-year-old self sends him as she—as I—say, “You wouldn’t be surprised if you came around more often, Rick. You need to get out of Lengard more. Riles and me can babysit so you and Esther can hang out with Mum and Dad.”

Rick.

I just called him Rick.

And—I referenced Lengard, a place I never knew existed until I was imprisoned there.