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"Right," Cinnamon said. "We understand and we don't blame her a bit. How did she do it?"

Gerta smiled.

"She figured it out. She wasn't stupid."

"No, she wasn't. How did she do it?" Cinnamon insisted on hearing.

"First, she had to get out of her body. They were keeping her body locked up. Sometimes, she could do it easily. When her body was asleep, she could very quietly slip away, but she couldn't be away long enough. Her body always realized she was gone and woke and pulled her back inside.

"Once, she was just outside the window. She was on her way home and then, her body trembled and shuddered until it woke and pool:" she said, clapping her hands so quickly, sharply, and

unexpectedly, we all jumped. "She was brought back again, back into her body."

"So what did she do?" Cinnamon pursued.

I wished she hadn't. I had enough already to provide me a few weeks of nightmares, and from the looks on Ice's and Rose's faces, I saw they had enough, too.

"There was only one way. She had to put her body to sleep for good so it couldn't pull her back. Under her bed hung a broken bedspring. She crawled there and bent it back and forth, back and forth until it snapped off. It was sharp enough to rim it over her wrist until it unzipped her skin and let the blood drip out. Her body was screaming and begging and promising never to call her back again, but she didn't believe it. Bodies lie, you know. They tell us things that aren't true all the time.

"They tell us we're hungry and we're not really hung7. As soon as we begin to eat, we throw up.

"They tell us we're not tired, but when we try to do something, we can barely move.

"They tell us it's morning when it's still night. They tell us we're warm when we're really cold. They lie, lie, lie to keep us quiet.

"So, she said no, she wouldn't zip up her skin. She sat there watching it stop and go until it finally just flowed and then she closed her eyes and waited. She knew that as soon as her body was permanently asleep, she could be off. She could be gone.

"And so she was, because when they found her body in the morning, she was already gone and they couldn't get her back."

"Look at her wrist," Rose said with a small gasp. "Is that scar what I think?"

"Yes, wait." Cinnamon said. She turned back to Gerta. "And when she was free, she came here?" Cinnamon continued,

"Yes, of course. She came home. But he was gone. too. His body was in the ground and he wasn't here to call her his Gerta Berta. She was happy and sad, happy and sad. I told her I would help her. I would always help her. Sometimes, she needed to be back in a body, you know."

"I think I'm getting sick," Rose said. "I don't know about y'all, but I think I want to just leave."

"Hold on. You don't know what this means yet," Cinnamon insisted. She turned back to Gerta. "So, you let her go into you?"

"Of course. She's my little sister. It wasn't her fault. What he did to her wasn't her fault."

"What did he do to her?"

Gerta's eyes grew small, suspicious. I felt my chest tighten. My heart was beating fast, but low, thumping like someone's fingers on a tabletop.

"She didn't tell you?" she asked Cinnamon,

"No. She couldn't do it. She said we should come to ask you."

"Poor Gerta."

"Right," Cinnamon said, "What happened to her? What did he do?"

"He made her his Gerta Berta. When she had nightmares and she went to him, he showed her how to forget them, but that wasn't nice. Her body lied again. Her body thought it was nice."

"Didn't she tell her mother?" Cinnamon asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course, my mother told her everything must be kept secret. Only whisper to yourself and never tell. Never