The rest of the day passes like a gun fight, with each bullet a slice of the day burned into me with perfect clarity. BANG. The look on Conflagration's face when he spotted me. BANG. The shrouded hall with Wrath disappearing into the darkness.

BANG. Deception's worried eyes, strained at the edges like Edison's when he realizes all over again I am not the same person he knew. It's funny how much more that look hurts when it's on someone else's face.

BANG. The ornate designs on the edges of the teacups Deception along with tea cakes, scones, and appetizers, claiming that they were my favorite. I remember them as much as I remember the taste of hot chocolate ice cream: not at all. BANG. Purple stains her lips like velvet blood, accentuating the rueful smile she gives after she catches me staring. "Don't you remember me?" hangs between us, unspoken but so loud I can taste it.

BANG. The swish of her hair as she leaves, our conversation still buzzing furiously in my head. She's not what I expected; all dangerous and sly like the viper she's named after, someone who couldn't care less about me other than what I could do for her.

But she does care. I can see it in her eyes, hear it in the questions she doesn't ask, feel it in every stilted, careful move she makes. She cares about me, and just like Edison, it is tearing her apart that I don't remember her.

BANG. I'm shaking in the corner, on the floor, clutching a pack of pens like my life depends on it. I can't breathe right, the room is spinning, and my hands, no, everything, is ice cold. Winter teeth dig into my skin, aching, pounding, screaming to be let out. My grip on it is slipping, the ice prying open my control, and a tiny breeze squeezes past and the pack of pens is gone.

I asked for a PowDown patch. Deception brought it, lips turned down into a disapproving but sympathetic frown. She doesn't like that I had been so suppressed, that a part of me had been locked away out of my reach, but she doesn't understand.

With the patch on, I am safe. If I am spooked or stressed (and megabytes, am I stressed), I couldn't bring the whole facility down on me, Edison, David, and everyone else. The side effects suck, but it is better than accidentally hurting everyone I love again.

But no one I love is here. I am alone. I am—

I blink, no, open my eyes (when had they closed?), the afterglows of the memories hovering in front of me like distant ghosts. I'm staring up at the slope of the ceiling, the burn of the PowDown patch reigning in my power and removing the possibility I blank my bed or the building.

Silence rings in my ears with my quiet breaths, not a whisper of footsteps, a gush from the pipes, or even the hum and twitter of my white noise playlist breaking the still darkness in my room. It's night. I must have fallen asleep.

A sigh gusts from my lungs and I roll onto my side, curling my limbs inwards, letting my gaze trail listlessly across the wrinkles in the pillowcase. One time I took a nap in Edison's bed and accidentally stayed the night. Instead of kicking me out or taking the couch, he got in beside me. Waking up to his back pressed to mine was...familiar, in the comforting sense.

He told me we used to curl up like puppies all the time when we were younger. It, "Kept the nighttotters" (we couldn't pronounce "terror", then) away—and us out of our parent's beds. When we were older, we'd have 'sleepovers' complete with snacks and pillow fights whenever one of us had a bad day. "It was our way of saying, 'I'm here for you,'" Edison had said.

My throat swells and a hand digs nails into my chest as my lungs collapse and crumble into dust. If only Edison was here right now. I could use a brother sleepover right now, with I'm here for you hugs, my favorite sour gummies, and pillow fights and long heart-to-heart talks late into the night. I could use my brother right now to face this rotten situation with me.

But I'm alone. I have to face the world and the emptiness of my memories, my past, my identity, all alone.

Something snaps and jerks at the thought, tightening my throat with closing walls and bound hands. Tears prick the back of my eyeballs and it takes careful, measured breaths to release the building pressure of panic in my chest. You survived the first time, I tell myself. You can do it again. You can get out of here. Just—stay calm.

But how can I stay calm when all I've worked for is crumbling between my fingertips? The scrap of memories Edison returned to me all those months ago in the early days of my capture wash over me; the fear, the hurt, the anguish at what I'd become mere flickers into what I used to be like. What being alone drove me to do.

I am here again, at the precipice, dreading the drop. Only I would manage to find myself here again. An ironic, desperate smile flicks onto my face, the urge to laugh even as tears scream in my throat.

Will I break this time like I'd done before? Will the pressure of Deception's power, this place, my power, everything make me lose everything I've worked for with Edison and David? Will I fall back on old habits my mind doesn't remember but my body does?

Will I lose myself again?

The urge to laugh at the past repeating, the mess I am in, builds in my lungs and I roll onto my back, pressing my palms over my eyes. I am so screwed.

A breathless half maniac chortle, half wet gag escapes at the echo of a thought I'd had so constantly before everything went down. The sound is so ridiculous, so helpless, so over the edge, I lose it. The laugh bursts out—full maniacal, insane laughter—and I'm crying, shaking, terrified, at the same time and I can't stop.

Everything is spiraling out of my control like a ball of yarn down a thousand flights of stairs. I'm kidnapped from the place I was just managing to scrape my life together, my kidnapper is a maybe-not-ex girlfriend from my past with suspected mind control, there's an insane arsonist down the hall, I'm trapped and everything might be a trap or a trick according to Wraith, I'm slowly dying, nobody knows where I am or how to rescue me, David still might hate me, Edison might be tearing the universe apart looking for me or not because he still might hate me too—

Buh-doop!

Reality slaps me across the face and the laughter cuts short. I struggle to a sitting position, gasping and gripping the pillows as if my life depended on it. With every last megabyte of my strength, I suck in as much breath I can and hold it, counting.

One, two, three, four. Exhale, all in a rush; I can't handle slowly right now. (I hate panic attacks.) Inhale. One two three four. Exhale. (Edison, help me. I'm so losing it.)

Buh-doop!

Another set of four-counted breaths. My hands stop shaking so hard, the fingernails of winter easing up a bit. Blindly, I grab a pen from the pack on my bedside table and release the winter. The pen crumples into a bunch of things that don't feel like the normal components. I drop them in the trash chute all the same.

The flurry of thoughts smooth themselves down into little eddies as I blank a few more pens and count my breaths until I am not suffocating under everything anymore. Drying my eyes on my sleeve, I turn my head towards the buh-doop! sound.

A notification hovers above the holowatch's screen from the bedside table, bobbing up and down for my attention. Who would be messaging me now? Heart and lungs weighing like millstones in my chest, I reach out and grab the holowatch, needing a distraction. Swiping upwards to expand the notification, I flinch as Deception's voice plays far too loud in the silence.

"Why are you up?" her voice murmurs, each word typing out before me as she says it.

The last tendril of laughter and doom spiraling drops out of existence, replaced by a cold stone nestled in between my intestines. Just how did she know I was awake?

I straighten, ice swirling at my fingertips, and scan the darkness for any blinking red dot of a camera or the shimmer of a camo field that shouldn't be there. Nothing. Of course, they could be hidden behind holograms or a false wall or— I glance down at the holowatch in my hand. Or it could be hidden in plain sight.

Terabytes.

My stomach falls to my feet and my fingers burn with the urge to blank the holowatch. Is it recording right now? Can she see my face? Could she hear my breakdown? Ice rushes into my fingertips, shining bright in my mind's eye.

Does she know how weak I am now? Will she use it against me? Does her mind control powers—if that's what they really are—work that way? Did I just mess up? What if—

I shove the end of that thought into an incinerator and close my eyes until my skin stops crawling with panic. I can't panic again. I will not panic again. I will get of here somehow, as me.

Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and look at the words in the small speech bubble hovering above the holowatch's screen. Should I answer? If she can see me, or hear me, she would know I have the holowatch. There's not much point in pretending I didn't see. Still...do I want to talk to her?

"I can see you're online."

I jerk and nearly drop the holowatch. Shoot. She knows I am here. There isn't much point pretending otherwise. Cautiously, I tap 'reply' and clear my throat. "Why are you up?" The words pop up as I speak, italicizing where appropriate, and I hit 'send'.

A speech bubble with my answer hangs under Deception's, letters slightly wavering as my shaky hand disrupts the projection. Why is she texting me at—I glance at time and freeze, ice prickling my skin—three AM?

"Just thinking." The response lands with a dull thud. A pause lingers in between my breaths, the three dots in a bubble bobbing up and down as, in some other room, she speaks. "Are you okay?"

Okay? Do I sound okay? If she heard my break down, she should've known already. I am not okay. I just got kidnapped today. "What do you think?" My voice trembles with a glint of laughter that has nothing to do with humor.

"Right. I'm sorry. I just...it's been so long. Are you sure you don't remember me?"

That's an easy question, one she'd been asking all day. "Yes." The word hangs in the air, waiting for more, but nothing comes. I lick my lips. "I only have...fragments." Of her eyes, her voice, her vibrant purple clothes. The girl dusts off her pants, straightening and fixing me with a glare.

"What kinds of fragments?"

I lean back against the headboard, staring up at the dark ceiling. Dots of color flit in my vision, forming shapes and shadows of memory.

"It's better that way." She flicks her hair over her shoulder, eyeing me up and down. "That way no one can betray me."

"Isn't that lonely?"

"Of course not! I have myself." Her eyes flash purple as she meets mine.

Something flutters in my chest and my breath catches. Her eyes are so purple and clear, like polished amethyst, and I can't look away as she steps into my personal bubble.

"Your eyes. Your voice. You asked me if I wanted to be your exception." My lips twist. Why is it that it's her eyes I remember first? They seem to be so many shades at once, freely changing depending on her mood. Like a multifaceted gem in the light, shimmering with hundreds of shades depending on how you turned it or if it was moonlight or shadow or...

Where is this coming from? I must have thought about this a lot. Or stared at them a lot because we... Something catches in my chest and I run my tongue over my teeth, glancing at the holowatch. "Were we— really, uhm, together?"

"Yes, Elias." Now there's a sad smile in her voice even as it strains at the edges. "We ar— were together for five years."

"Oh." Five years and I don't remember a single bit of it. My bones turn hollow, singing like the lonely tinkle of windchimes on a long forgotten cabin in the woods.

I forgot her, someone so important to Past Me, just like that. A snap of my fingers, a brush of my hand to my forehead, a little touch of winter, and it's all gone. So much of myself, so many people, so many friends, my brother, forgotten.

A mallet hits my spine and my hollow bones vibrate with something deep and consuming. Why can't the world stop reminding me how much I lost already? My gaze flicks down, half formed questions bubbling up to my lips and escaping with a silent breath. "Were we..." I trail my fingers across the bed spread, "...happy?"

It takes her twenty-seven heartbeats for her to respond. "I think we were. But you... I guess you weren't happy when you...left."

Left. Did I really leave on my own? Did she do something that made me leave? I thought Deception would come back for me, and if I thought she would come back, I must've been happy enough with her to trust her. But if I left, why didn't she come for me? Why wait? Why did I not go back myself? Unless...I wasn't happy enough with her.

Was I happy or not? Megabytes. I sigh, running my hands through my hair and squeezing my eyes shut. I'll never know. The answers are wiped, blanked, deleted, and there's no getting them back. If only there'd been an 'are you sure?' message. If there was, then maybe I'd have pressed no.

"I'm sorry."

I drag my gaze to the hologram projection of her spoken words, watching as they type out.

"I'm sorry I didn't stop you from slipping." A little laugh, bitter and hurt. "You must've thought I'd abandoned you."

"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?"

I blink, the touches of that desperate, hopeless rage skirting my ribs. Had I thought she abandoned me, there? If I did, I denied it later. The Auto-played Message said I was holding out, that I was waiting for her. But if I'd thought she'd come back, why did I blank myself? Why wipe everything, all of her, away?

The answer drops into my chest, taking my breath. Because it hurt too much. Because I killed people, I doomed someone to the worst way of dying, because I'd given up on her coming back.

"Your silence says it all. I'm so sorry, Elias. I— there's no excuse, I'm sorry. I feel like a rotten girlfriend. I didn't mean to abandon you like everyone else. How can I make it up to you?"

"Edison didn't abandon me." The response is automatic, fueled by fire snapping at my tongue. David didn't either. I am not abandoned.

A sniffle sounds, written in italics and said out loud at the same time. "Is that what he told you? Both of you have sharp tongues. But while yours is silver, his is nothing but fool's gold."

What? No, Edison isn't like that! Edison isn't a liar, or a smooth talker (we've shared too many awkward silences to say otherwise). The fire climbs and circles like a prowling cat, and I grind my teeth together, clutching the holowatch too hard. "No he isn't! He loves me. He's my brother. He spent years looking for me!"

And maybe he hates you, a treacherous piece of me whispers. I stomp on it, grind it into the ground, but it worms away under the fire and out of my reach then rears up in a wave.

Her voice is soft when she speaks, squishy with pain and sticky with pity. "Elias, he lied to you. He hates you; he's jealous of your power and wants to use you. Whatever he told you is just a front to get your trust."

My heart beats at my eardrums, my ribs, pushes against my lungs. The air around me thickens, flickers of they hate you, and they love me, and alone, alone, all alone! intertwining into a spear of purple threads with each breath. "That's not true." The threads constrict my throat even as my heart screams.

"It's what you told me when we started working together. Don't you remember? You approached me because we were the loners, the outcasts in Ten School and you didn't want to be used anymore as a stepping stool for your brother."

No, no, that isn't right. I shake my head hard, clutching the collar of my shirt. Edison told me we were good friends at Ten School! I didn't have much of a friend group, so I hung out with his, and that was fine. He doesn't hate me. He doesn't want to use me. He loves me. I know it. I've felt it.

Then why did I drift away? Why did I never graduate? Why did I disappear with Deception after a car crash? It all circles back to why, one, simple word that echoes endlessly in the barren deadlands of my memory.

Except it isn't empty. A single, small violet vine of ivy reaches forward, unfurling its pointed leaves. On the largest leaf is a scrawled answer: what if he doesn't?

No. I can't go down this tra— The vine shoots forward, sinking roots and tendrils into my mind. What if Edison doesn't? I've hurt him. I see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, see it in the way he fingers the tiger lilies in the vase on his table.

I killed Vulpine, his closest friend. I disappeared, forcing him to become a Hero instead of a normal citizen to look for me. I wiped myself, so when he found me, I am not the brother he spent the majority of his life looking for.

I've hurt him so many times over. He has reason to hate me. What if that's the only reason he's my rehabilitation guardian? Is he only there because he was assigned to me by the authorities because I'd believe in him? Is he only telling him about second chances and caring for him because he's trying to indoctrinate me into hero beliefs?

Is he lying to me, telling me he loves me, pretending he likes me, when secretly he actually hates me? Am I living a lie, a virtual reality, a mask of an identity like Blank Slate? Indigo fangs sink into my spine, sapping every last drop of fluid. My stomach drops, my skin goes cold, and my blood bursts into clouds of frigid static.

Am I really all that better off than I was when I was Blank Slate? Was— I drop-kick the thought and punch it into the hole where my stomach should've been. I can't do this again. I'm slipping, spiraling— Dr. Egret would be disappointed. I am past this point of doubting, I am better!

But the purple sinks deeper and the thud of my heart roars with the turmoil in my head. I try to picture Edison's smile, the soft crinkle of his eyes, remember sharing laughter over some silly joke, feel his arm around my shoulders and the warmth of his side as we be miserable couch potatoes together, but every time I pull it up, a different memory overrides.

Edison frowning at the wall, brows creased and grief swirling under a careful mask. Edison glaring ahead, face shut down into his serious hero expression, movements stiff with anger, betrayal, and hurt. Edison's mouth twisting from a smile to a tacked-on sticky note with a smiley face as he quickly changes topic. Edison hurting, and hiding it. Edison hating something. Is it me? Is Deception right?

"Why do you think everyone hates you?" Dr. Egret's calm voice whisks through the chaotic jumble of my thoughts. I look his memory in the eyes, feeling my own face scrunch as a thought rips holes in the tattered bandages around my identity. Maybe because everyone does.

"Elias?" Deception's voice echoes as something inside of me crashes and crumbles under the wash of tears.

"He's not— It can't be true. He's my brother." The words come out as a whisper, a scrape, a bucket too full of holes to hold any weight. She's wrong! I scream into the rubble, as if it could make it get up and rebuild itself. But the rubble stays rubble, purple ivy already slithering through the cracks.

I need to talk to Edison and hear his side of things. He'll laugh and tell me I am being silly and yes, he does love and care about me. Of course he'll give me second chances. Of course everything is okay.

But I can't. I am alone here, trapped, and I don't know how to tell the difference between half-truth and truth. Prickles burn at the back of my throat and my eyes, scratching until my words stick in my throat. I turn off the holowatch and shove it in a drawer.

I am left in the dark, she's wrong, she's wrong, she's wrong spiraling in the storm in my head. And in the eye of the storm, where nothing is touched, is a patch of rich purple ivy.