Lily looks like she’s spent a week buried under brush. Her uniform is dirty and tattered, her blond hair is matted together in clumps, and the skin under her eyes is reddish purple. It’s the blood that draws my attention, though—a crimson stain has pooled near her feet. Where is it coming from?

“Lily…what happened?”

I start to move toward her, but something holds me back. Her stare is different—a look I’ve only seen in the dead. Or maybe it’s the thread, sparking to life within my palm: a siren telling me this is wrong. Get rid of it.

I wobble on my feet and take a step back instead.

Lily looks at the blood on the ground and then returns her gaze to the fire escape ladder.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” she says. Her voice is gravelly, reminding me of static on an old radio.

“Lily…”

“My name’s not Lily!” she seethes, and when she looks at me, her eyes are finally alight. It’s the only thing about her that actually looks alive. “You’re just like the rest of them!”

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, holding up my hands as if that will ward her off, but I don’t understand. The person I’m staring at is Lily—a battered and beaten Lily. Maybe she fell and has amnesia. I try asking her what happened again.

She doesn’t look at me, but her brows knit together. “I don’t know. One moment, I was free, and the next, I was trapped.”

“Did someone kidnap you?” I ask, trying to understand, but she shakes her head.

“No. A thread trapped me.”

My stomach sinks. “A…thread?”

My thread?

“Vera?” Her name comes out as a whisper, but Lily—or the person I thought was Lily—hears it, latches on to it, and exhales, as if I’ve awakened her.

When she opens her eyes again, she says, “I’m supposed to be up there. They have to see me, to understand what they did to me.”

That’s why she’s staring up at the fire escape. She’s trying to figure out how to climb to the roof and hang herself again. She doesn’t want to be alive.

I’ve seen a lot of terrifying things: souls who experienced horrific endings at the end of a knife or a gun. I’ve seen victims of car wrecks wandering about searching for their head or an arm or leg.

I’ve never seen a soul inhabit a body where it doesn’t belong.

So many questions run through my head: If Vera’s soul is in Lily’s body, where is Lily’s soul? Is it trapped in my coin? Who could do that? And why Lily?

Vera starts toward the fire escape ladder.

“Vera, no!”

She halts, becoming even more agitated. “They have to see me!” she yells.

“Who?”