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I gasp a breath. This girl is more tanned than I was, and her eyes are brown; she’s prettier. Not quite the same as me. But she’s smiling at you. Even from here I see she’s not scared. You are making her smile, and now laugh. Her laughter is louder than the mynahs and mudlarks, louder than the crying babies or office workers on their phones.

I want to stop her, stop you, SLAP YOU, take you by the hand and lead you far away.

There’s blood in my mouth, and, as I run my tongue over my lip, I taste more. My teeth are knives, shredding me.

What are you doing?

And then, it hits me. Iknow.

I step back as I realise: you, me, you watching in a park. You’re going to do it all again. Everything you did with me, you’re going to do with her.

You make her laugh again, and I falter, stumble in the dirt. You take something from your pocket, a small bag. It all seems so obvious. You’re so predictable. Here are the drugs you’re going to use. Inside your backpack, you must have everything you need for her disguise and the getaway afterwards. And then? You will go back to your desert den.Ourden. And you will do all the things you did with me, and all the other things you didn’t do. And she will love you.

My fingers clench into fists. I’ve been an idiot. You haven’t changed. You’re just like before, only worse. You’re going to do it all again with someone else.

But this time, I’m watching. I can stop it.

I step close enough to hear your conversation.

Your voice, for the first time in ten years. That low, soft drawl. If I shut my eyes, I’m back. But I’m so tense with listening, I can’t make out what you’re saying. All I hear is the blood pounding in my ears.

You can’t take someone else.

It can’t happen again.

You open your hand and show her the bag, the drugs. She doesn’t run scared. She grabs something in the bag and putsit in her mouth. You dig your fingers into the bag too, and something goes into your mouth too. You smile at her. Then she takes the bag and puts it in her pocket. This is different from what you did with me. I didn’t take your drugs willingly; I didn’t even know about them.

‘I’ll see you later then,’ she says, smiling. ‘Thanks.’

As she stands, I step back and find a tree to steady myself against. I hear you laugh and say something else—words I can’t quite catch, but I hear your laugh perfectly. It sounds like before. Like you.

But she is walking away, and you’re not following. Perhaps this isn’t what it seems. Is this girl someone you know, a family friend? But why the packet, whatever she’s taken from you?

‘Wait!’ you call.

You get up and follow. You don’t look back to where I am standing, so visible, behind you. I see your real plan now. You are going to follow her to a more secluded location, where you’ll wait until whatever she’s just taken starts to kick in, then you’ll make your move. You are smiling as you walk after her. That broad, easy smile. It’s almost beautiful, almost perfect. But there’s nothing about what you’re doing that’s perfect. You are working out how you can grab her, and I won’t let you. I can’t. I take the small knife from my pocket and follow. The girl walks past the pond, towards the trees and ferns. You trail behind.

‘Wait!’ you call again.

She doesn’t wait, keeps walking. I will her to move faster. Soon you will catch up. I break into a half-run. Only then do you hear me, my steps loud on the track behind you.

‘Hey!’ I say, and you stop watching her and turn to me.

I keep running, closing the distance between us. You frownas you see me; I watch your mouth open in surprise. Now you are thinking about me, not her. I’ve got you. I clamp my hands around your arms. It’s surprisingly easy to pull you away, probably because you’ve just taken something from that little bag too. Your expression is a mess of confusion as your eyes swim into focus. You’ve recognised me, haven’t you? You’re not completely sure yet, but you’re starting to comprehend.

You know.

I wait for you to say my name.

Gemma,

Gem.

But you just stare, your mouth still open, your eyes wide as lakes.

‘Come with me,’ I say.

I don’t have to use the knife. I just yank you over towards the ferns, pulling you by your shirt. You look shocked, and you don’t resist. If anyone sees us, I’ll say I’m an old friend, helping you get your head together. My heart is pounding, everything inside me straining for you to say something back to me: my name.