I don’t know, she says. What do you feel?

Lost. Hurt. Broken. Brokenhearted. Scared, but not of Del or anyone like him. I’m scared of having to face the rest of my life without Geordie in it.

But I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t think I can talk about it. But I feel I need to talk about something or the black hole of Geordie’s loss is going to rise up again and swallow me whole. So I change the subject.

“How come Del didn’t have any power over you?” I ask the dog.

I will not let anyone have power over me, she replies. Not ever again. I refuse to believe it.

“So it’s a matter of willpower.”

Belief certainly plays a part.

“I have willpower. Ask my friends and they’ll describe me as willful.”

I feel a smile in my mind that comes from her.

“So why didn’t it work for me?” I ask.

She looks away. I wait, but she doesn’t answer. I guess she’s already told me once and sees no reason to repeat it.

It’s because I think I deserve it.

“Then what about Lizzie?” I ask. “And . . . “ It’s so hard to say his name. “And Geordie?”

They believe this place is true.

That can’t be true, Lizzie says. I don’t believe. I didn’t believe in any of this.

This what? Honey asks.

All this weird stuff that’s been happening to me. Not at first. Not even when I got here inside . . . inside Jilly’s head.

“It’s totally weird to me, too,” I assure her.

Lizzie looks back down at the bottom of the stairs to where Del is lying. Her hand reaches up to touch the smooth expanse of skin between her chin and nose.

But then . . . , she says. Then, when he turned us into kids and did this to me . . .

It’s difficult, Honey agrees. And confusing. I can feel the wooden stairs under me. I can smell the world around me. The dust, your bodies, the blood. And if Jilly hadn’t thrown off his aim, I would have felt the impact of that shotgun blast. I would have been hurt. I’d probably be dead.

“So it’s only you yourself that he couldn’t touch,” I say. “He couldn’t manipulate you the way he did us.”

Honey gives me a slow nod.

“This is all so sick and weird. I can’t believe it’s coming from inside me.” It’s not coming from you, Honey tells me. It comes from the piece of your brother that’s still inside you.

I give a slow nod. “But I don’t know how to get rid of it. I know it’s not my fault, what he did to me, but still . . . I don’t know. All my memories of that time are so messed up and confusing . . .”