Page 78 of The Same Backward as Forward

In my mind, I see a dirt chamber, a piece of bone, the wordCOMPLICIT.

“You recognize it.”

“Where?”

“Your wallet.”

I barely even hear her. The token in her hand—the size of a quarter, concentric circles on its face—looms large before me. My field of vision narrows until I can see nothing else.

Just circle after circle after circle.

I watch as my hand snatches it from her. I watch that same hand hurl it right past her face. The metal hits the wall, and she flinches, and the moment she does, I come back to myself.

You never flinch, I think.H-A-N-N-A-H.

Jackson bursts into the room.

“You recognized that disk.” Hannah’s focus remains on me. “What is it? What do you remember?”

Circle after circle after circle.“Nothing,” I say. That’s true, and I need it to stay that way, but I can’t stop myself from telling her that she shouldn’t have it.

In response—for once—Hannah does not ration her gaze. She looks at me and looks andlooks, the way that I have for so long now looked at her. And then she walks with silent footsteps to retrieve the offending object. “You can have it.”

Every cell in my body recoils.“No.”I don’t want it, but I need to get it away from her. “Hide it somewhere. Whatever you do, don’t let anyone else see it.”

Hours after she leaves, my heart is still pounding. My lungs are still tight in my chest. And I know, long before I ever fall asleep, that my dreams are going to come for me.

Chapter 13

The stone room. The cliffs. The chamber and the bone. Every time I turn, the scene changes. All I want is for it to stop, but I can’t stop turning. Faster and faster.

I’m underwater, and I can’t breathe.

Trapped. The maze. I have to work the maze.

COMPLICIT.

The world is on fire.

There’s a girl, and she’s dancing. Beautiful and brash.

And then there’s a flash of white.White marble.I’m in some kind of chapel, standing over an altar. I know somehow that the top of it can be removed. I know there is something horrible hidden underneath.

And just like that, there’s a knife in my hand.

I bolt awake, wheezing, and then I retch. The bathroom light is on, illuminating the room just enough that I can make out Jackson at the table.

“Withdrawal’s a bitch,” he says.

I want to tell him that this barely qualifies as withdrawal. Hannah has cut me down slowly, and she never gave me anywhere nearenoughto begin with. But try telling my body that. My mouth is dry. My palms are sweating.

“I could get you more,” Jackson offers.

My eyes whip up to lock onto his. It takes me a moment to realize his hands are moving. I think at first that he’s whittling something, but then I realize: He’s cleaning a shotgun.

I think back to what happened before I fell asleep, to the way I hurled that little metal token right past Hannah’s face, hard enough to mark the wall.

“Planning to shoot me?” I ask Jackson.