Page 73 of Dual

RED.

Just seeing the signature makes my throat close up.

I knew something was wrong the moment I blinked and found myself standing in the shower this morning with no memory of getting there. One second, I'd been in the kitchen, rolling out pie dough, watching the afternoon light spill across the counter. The next—nothing. Just steamand water and the disorienting sensation of time having slipped away from me.

At first, I thought Mads was back. God, I'd almost been relieved.

But Mads doesn't clean like this. I got out of the shower to find that it's ten in the morning, and I don't have any clue what the fuck happened to the rest of yesterday.

I touch the spotless counter, smelling bleach and industrial cleaners. I walk through the house and find the fire roaring in the library, though I didn't light it. Everything is immaculate, sterile, as if someone tried to erase all evidence of... something.

So, of course, I scramble at the back of the closet for the journal, and when I open it, the words knock the breath out of my lungs.

ANNA. I EXIST NOW. ACCEPT THIS FACT. YOU WERE ATTACKED IN OUR HOME YESTERDAY AT 1:42 PM. A MAN ATTEMPTED TO STRANGLE YOU. I EMERGED TO HANDLE THE SITUATION. THE THREAT HAS BEEN PERMANENTLY NEUTRALIZED.

My hands fly to my throat, feeling for bruises I don't remember receiving. Immediately, I wince. Fuck! It's not a lie. I'll need to wear turtlenecks for days if I don't want Domhnall to find out about what happened. If today is tomorrow, that means he could be back in a few hours. What if this new alterdidn't clean everything up and Domhn finds out? Wait. Why was my first impulse to hide it from him? I just came clean to him about everything—okay,most things—and it had felt so good.

I keep reading desperately.

I HAVE CLEANED THE HOUSE. ALL EVIDENCE HAS EEN DISPOSED OF. YOU DO NOT NEED DETAILS. BUT UNDERSTAND THERE IS NOTHING TO FEAR FROM THAT PARTICULAR INDIVIDUAL AGAIN.

"Permanently neutralized." My voice sounds thin and strange in the empty room. Clinical words for something that must be far from clinical.

YOUR DESIRE FOR NORMALCY AND MADS’ RECKLESSNESS HAVE CREATED VULNERABILITIES. I NOW EXIST TO ADDRESS THESE DEFICIENCIES.

I'm shaking as I read the rest, each word hammering another nail into the coffin of the life I thought I was building.

DO NOT ATTEMPT THERAPY OR HYPNOSIS TO REMOVE ME. I AM NECESSARY.

THE MAN WHO ATTACKED US HAD A TATTOO INDICATING PARAMILITARY TRAINING. HIS PHONE CONTAINED ENCRYPTED COMMUNICATIONS. THISWAS NOT RANDOM.

DO NOT TELL DOMHNALL WHAT I’VE DONE. HE WOULD NOT UNDERSTAND THE NECESSITY.

REMEMBER: I DO NOT EXIST TO COMFORT YOU. I EXIST TO KEEP US ALIVE.

- RED

I slam the journal shut, then reopen it, desperate for the words to change or be a joke. Mads playing one of her cruel pranks, maybe.

But the words remain, stark and uncompromising.

"No," I whisper, then louder, "No!" I rip the page from the journal, the sound of tearing paper like a scream in the quiet house.

I sprint to the library, the page clutched in my fist. The fire will destroy this evidence, this impossible reality I refuse to accept. I'll burn it away like it never existed.

But at the threshold, I stop. Something makes me look down at my hands. The afternoon light streaming through the arched windows illuminates them with unforgiving clarity.

Under my fingernails—only a couple, my thumb and fourth nail, and barely there—are rusty stains. Brownish-red. Stubborn against the fierce scrubbing they've clearly endured. The sight of them sends a cold shock through my system, like ice water injected directly into my veins.

Blood.

The room tilts around me, the bookshelves seeming tolean inward, the leather-bound volumes blurring into streaks of color.

I drop the paper and stumble backward, a scream building in my throat but dying before it escapes, caught behind my teeth like a caged thing.

My back hits the wall with a solid thud, the impact vibrating through my bones, and I slide down, hugging my knees to my chest like I did when I was a child, hiding from my father's rage. The hardwood floor is cool and solid beneath me, the only real thing in a world suddenly turned to quicksand.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." The words tumble from my lips in a desperate prayer to a deity who's never answered me before. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my temples, a frantic drumbeat. "Did Ikillsomeone?"