Page 54 of Dual

One second I'm nowhere,and the next I'm staring at my bloody hands under flickering fluorescent lights.

"What the—" I gasp, disoriented and dizzy.

The bathroom around me is filthy—cracked tiles, yellowed sink, air thick with the smell of cheap bleach and something worse underneath. My reflection in the cloudy mirror shows a stranger—wild-eyed, hair tangled, blood streaked across my cheek.

I spin around, trying to understand where I am, and a sharp pain rips through my back. When I reach over my shoulder, my fingers come away red and wet.

"What the fuck," I whisper, pulling up my shirt to see along, jagged cut across my shoulder blade. It's still bleeding sluggishly, the skin around it already darkening to a deep purple. "What did she do this time?"

My heart races as I try to piece together what happened. Last thing I remember was New Year's Eve. Domhnall and I—no, Domhnall andMads—kissing as the clock struck midnight. Then nothing until now.

I grab a handful of rough paper towels and wet them in the sink, biting my lip against the sting as I try to clean the wound. The water running off my back swirls pink down the drain.

"Focus, Anna," I tell myself, voice shaking. "Find out where you are first."

I finish cleaning up as best I can and step outside, blinking in the harsh sunlight. I'm at some decrepit gas station in the middle of nowhere. A single ancient pump stands in front of a faded convenience store. There's not another building in sight, just empty fields stretching to the horizon.

And there, parked haphazardly by the side of the building, is my car.

I walk toward it slowly, my stomach dropping as I get closer. The back bumper is crumpled, the trunk dented, and there's a long scratch down one side like someone took a key to it.

"What the hell happened?" I mutter, circling the car in horror. It looks like it's been in an accident—or several.

When I open the trunk to look for the first aid kit I know is there, I freeze.

A suitcase. Packed and zipped up tight.

With trembling hands, I pull it out, set it on the ground, and pop it open. Inside are clothes, toiletries, cash—a lot of cash—and a passport I've never seen before. With my face but a different name.

"She was leaving," I whisper, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "She was running away."

Rage flares hot and sudden, burning away the confusion.

That bitch was just going to disappear. Take our body and leave without a word. Leave Domhnall. Leave our life.

"No." I slam the suitcase shut. "Absolutely not."

I pull out my phone and scroll through the contacts until I find one labeled simply "N.O." for Nuclear Option. Dr. James Renwick. I called this number only once before, for a consultation. He said he thought he could help me, but that it might come at a cost, and I don't mean the monetary kind. His approach is diametrically different from the work Dr. Ezra's been doing with me to foster communication between alters.

At the time of the consultation, I fundamentally disagreed with Dr. Renwick's approach. But I kept his number just in case Mads ever got too out of hand. Looks like "in case" is now.

He picks up on the third ring. "Dr. Renwick speaking."

He gave me his private number. He said he'd be thrilled to work with a case like mine. I'd considered it a red flag at the time. Today, I have no more fucks to give.

"This is Anna Madison," I say, giving the name Ioriginally gave when first inquiring with him. "I need an appointment. Today, if possible. Tomorrow at the absolute latest."

There's a pause. "Anna. I've been expecting your call."

A chill runs down my spine. "You have?"

"I thought you might reach out eventually. What's happened?"

I laugh, a brittle sound that scrapes my throat. "My alter tried to run away with my body today. I woke up bleeding in a gas station bathroom in the middle of nowhere with a packed suitcase and a fake passport."

Another pause. "I see. I can fit you in tomorrow morning at eight. First appointment."

"Thank you," I breathe, relief making my knees weak. "I'll be there."