Is Citizen trustworthy? He...is my brother and I...I don't remember not trusting him. But the auto-played message said that my family didn't care about me. Is that a lie? Is it a lie based in truth? I pull my gaze across his face, lingering on the earnestness in his eyes. "Did we have a fall out?"

He blinks, a shadow settling over his face. "Somewhat...yes. You started to distance yourself from me in Ten School—it wasn't anything serious enough to...make you turn. You just stopped hanging with me. I...don't know why."

The sensation of irritation hovering over the sound of rowdy laughter down the hall plops into my mind. I can't see anything in the memory, but I know it is my brother's voice that is laughing the loudest and that I hate it. I frown. Why did that memory come up now? How is it related? Did I...secretly resent him?

He was the one with all the friends and enough charm to be in the popular circles, but...I don't remember minding. He loved hanging with me more than them and he hooked me into his circles as well. I wasn't excluded or shunned or counted less—or at least, not that I remember.

With a sigh, I lean my head back against my pillow. "I don't remember that. Not clearly, anyway." If only I could have my memories back. It would make everything simpler.

Citizen straightens, glancing towards me as he brushes curls away from his face. "I...could reverse the memory blank. It might bring the memories about that back. It's only temporary and it doesn't return all your memories or any specific ones but...it might help."

Lightning scatters my thoughts and I snap my head around. "You can do that? Why in the good wide world did you not offer sooner?"

Citizen winces and leans away a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sometimes it hurts more than it helps and..." He glances away. "...And I was afraid you'd accept it, remember me, and choose to continue your way anyway. I'm sorry."

A barb wedges itself under my ribs, stinging fiercely. He was right to be afraid. I would have...I would have turned away. I think. That's—that's almost what I did at the face off; he revealed himself and I rejected him. Clenching my teeth against the course burn of shame, I force my answer out. "I want my memories back. Even if—if it's for a little while." Even if it hurts. I want to know. I have to know.

He nods and takes a deep breath, meeting my gaze. "Alright." Placing his hands on my shoulders, he pushes his power into me.

It is like a current of golden threads with the power of whirlpools behind it. It sweeps through my chest and into my head, whipping away the static. I gasp, eyes widening, and images crash into me, consuming the real world entirely.

I am in my apartment. The curtains are drawn, steeping my bedroom in darkness. The light from my laptop's screen burns my gritty eyes and my body aches from lack of sleep. I push myself forward, clenching my jaw. Just one more thing left to do. One more thing and all of this will be over soon.

Taking a deep breath, I press record. "If you are reading this, not everything has failed." As I speak, the words type themselves into the text file, arranging themselves into a list format. When I reach rule six, my voice catches.

Vulpine. Heroes. Blood. Crashing. Screams. Walls falling. Floors collapsing. Fear. Utter, complete fear. Then, regret. Guilt. Horrible guilt. I killed someone. I killed a lot of people. My slate...my hands...they are not clean.

A bitter, acrid storm swallows my words and I mutter a curse, shoving it down and slamming the heel of my palm against my forehead. "Stop remembering!" I hiss into the silence. "Just record the message and—and all will be better again." And I won't remember for good. I won't be tormented by this any longer.

Inhaling deeply, I press stop and record again, dulling my emotions long enough to get through all of it. Once it's done, I sit back and lift my hands in front of my face. They are completely white, like they almost always are now. I am so powerful, and yet here I am, such a coward that I can't even face my own memories.

Gritting my teeth, I place one hand over my face. It is better to be a coward than to live like this—stuck seeing Vulpine fall under my hands and the building crumble around me, unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to live with the blood on my hands.

I hesitate, then, with another deep breath, let go. Winter leaps forwards and snaps its jaws over my mind, plunging me into blinding white nothingness.

The scene shifts, and I am plunged into a cacophony of emotion.

"WHERE ARE YOU DECEPTION?" I fling out my hand and the dilapidated shack in front of me crumbles into sticks. "WHY DON'T YOU JUST COME BACK ALREADY?! AM I NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

My voice echoes around the buildings that have been abandoned for centuries. A snarl spits through my teeth and I kick a pebble as hard as I can, winter and fire screaming inside of me. "LOOK AT WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!"

Hot tears clog my throat, threatening to spill from my eyes behind my holomask. Vulpine's horrified face comes back to me, her wide eyes fixing on my hands just before they roll up into her skull and she collapses like a rag doll. The image of a pool of blood seeping out from under the rubble comes next, the thundering of my heart squeezing my lungs shut. I pushed the hero in the way of the falling rubble. I killed him.

Heat flares, dashing the image to pieces and shaking my voice like the hero's headquarters trembled under my power. "Look at what you made me do," I breathe. Look at the people I killed. Bile leaps into my mouth and I barely have time to rip off my holomask and bend over before I empty my stomach.

I fall to my knees, gripping my curls and pulling as tightly as I dare. "I'm a horrible person." Tears drip down my face, the acid coating my tongue burning with each hoarse gasp. "I am a horrible, horrible person."

Again, the scene shifts, this one gripping me so hard with terror I nearly scream.

Vulpine stands over me, her face inches away from mine. Strands of her long auburn hair hang over her fox mask, making her fierce, yellow eyes even wilder. "Tell me, Blank Slate—and don't bother lying again—who do you work for?"

I gulp, mouth dry with terror, straining my arms against the bonds that not only keep them incapacitated but keep the IV pumping power suppressants into my system in place. "I— I don't work for anyone!"

She sneers, rearing back and lifting a hand, fingers splayed. From her gloves protrude wickedly sharp claws and she swings them straight for my face.

A shout bursts from my mouth and I twist away, my heart leaping into overdrive. Sharp needles of ice slice down my neck and into my spine, exploding into searing white agony and obliterating the chill of the power suppressants. My shout turns into a scream.

The chair beneath me crumples and the bonds vanish. As the winter agony slowly recedes, I roll, leap to my feet, and lunge at Vulpine, desperation intertwining with my power and overtaking my control.

She does not twist away in time and I grab her, blasting my power at full strength. For a split second, her eyes meet mine, wide with horror. Then she collapses.

The memory vanishes and I am thrown back into reality, gasping and spluttering. The world spins, static and black dots smearing together and twisting with fire and ice and everything else inside. "I am a horrible person." The words, wrapped in horror, fall out of my mouth with a choked sob. "A horrible, evil person."

Hands grip my shoulders, warm and gentle. "No, Elias, you are not evil. Get that into your head. You are not evil." They slide under me and pull me into an embrace. "If anyone's evil, it's Deception. She...she did this."

Scraps of purple-tinged memories flit in my vision and I squeeze my eyes shut, locking the sobs and tears inside my chest. It wasn't all her. I did things, too.

Not evil. But I hurt people. You didn't want to. Not evil. But I killed people—forced Vulpine into a fate worse than death! And the grief drove you to blank yourself. You are not evil.

But am I? Tears burn my throat with each breath I drag in and my chest shakes with the effort of keeping silent. He says I am not. Do I trust him? He trusts me. He's...my brother. Do I trust my brother? My heart screams yes while my mind screams no.

Sour laughter tugs at my lips and I clench my teeth against them. So much help, there. What am I supposed to do now? Am I evil? Do I trust him? Do I believe him? Is he telling the truth?

Citizen pulls back and I open my eyes, blinking the remnants of tears away. We lock gazes, the edges of his eyes softening while a fierce but almost gentle light shines through them. "Look...we'll figure everything out. Together. The Villain Rehabilitation program is still open to you. Please take it. I'll...I'll show you how to live a different way."

My heart clenches as if it is a hand reaching for the light. For hope. For a second chance. Isn't this what I wanted? A chance for a different path than villains', a way back to some semblance of the innocence and safety of my childhood, a chance to have friends I don't have to hide from? All I have to do to have it is say yes.

And yet I hesitate. What if he's lying? What if all it's honey coated traps? What if I really am evil? How can I tell if it is? I don't know. I can't tell.

But...I am tired of fighting. I am tired of being evil and living the way of villains. I am tired of guarding my back and trusting no one, even myself. I am tired of following my eight rules and the voice of the part of myself I lost to the past. What good have they done for me? Were they made to keep me safe or crafted by Deception to keep me trapped as Blank Slate?

Whatever it is, it...doesn't matter anymore. I don't have to be him—I don't want to be him. With a deep breath, I let go of Blank Slate, of Deception, of the past I can no longer reach. They are gone and I no longer know them. But perhaps...that is for the better. Perhaps it will be the one thing that allows me to take another path. To take my second chance.

I am me, neither hero, villain, or innocent citizen. I am not a clean slate and I still don't know all the answers to my questions, but maybe someday, with Citizen's help, I'll find to make my slate right, with answers or none. "...It better not be the hero way."

A faint smile curls Citizen's lip upwards. "It's the right way."

Tentatively, I smile back. Perhaps I was right to say not everything has failed way back in the auto message that started all of this. There is still hope for me, despite what my past self believed. Maybe that hope is misplaced and doomed to be shattered, but it's there and I am going to take it. I have to, for everyone I have hurt or will hurt, for Citizen and David, for myself.

With a deep breath, I meet his gaze. "I'll do it."