Before I can reply that it will be, he utters his Spoken comment and I’m falling, falling, falling into the darkness, unsure what I’m about to discover but certain it’s going to change everything.

*

Smith follows my request perfectly, the two of us arriving exactly where—and when—we did last time.

I watch in fascination again as my family interacts so casually with Falon. As I interact so casually with him. It’s surreal to think I knew him before Lengard, and vice versa. He never gave any indication during that first meeting of ours, and while later I learned that he knew my real name all along, I still feel like that moment I walked into his office was genuine. I still believe that he had no memory of meeting me before that point.

Which means his mind was modified, too.

But why?

As the conversation continues, I try to glean anything that I might have missed the first time around. But it’s useless. I still have no idea what SCARS is, still have no idea why my parents might be heading it and why Falon might be their spy inside Lengard.

When my mum mentions the powerful abilities both Riley and I have, a thought strikes me so suddenly that I gasp.

“What?” Smith whispers.

I turn woodenly to him. “I knew. I knew about Speakers.”

His eyebrows rise above his glasses. “You’re just realizing that now?”

Of course I’d realized earlier, but I hadn’t processed it until now—and all that it truly meant.

In the chaos of watching my other memories, I never stopped to comprehend that all of this—the world of Speakers—seems completely natural, completely normal to my younger self. I grew up knowing the truth about my parents, my brother, myself. My ability breaking out—both when I saved Smith from the fire, and later with whatever prompted me to cry in my parents’ arms—was never a surprise, because I expected it. Because I knew about it.

The memories I currently have, however … For years, I’ve believed that the first time I Spoke was this day, when I killed my parents. It was only after I saved Abby’s life five weeks ago that I even learned other Speakers existed. That I realized I wasn’t alone.

But … I never was. Because I’ve always known.

I was just made to forget.

My whole life—it’s not just a few memories that have been changed, but the entire core of my being. Everything I remember—everything—is a lie.

“Hey, calm down. You’re breaking my hand.”

Smith’s words have the desired effect, prompting me to breathe and ease the death grip I have on him. But then comes the sound of the two shadowed figures knocking at the door, and my fingers spasm in his as my younger self jumps up to open it.