Night four at the quarry. Otis left me sometime before daybreak this morning. Now it's 11 PM and I see his familiar silhouette on the pathway. I can't help the smile spreading across my lips. I don't have to be alone again. Tonight we will figure out what it takes to bring me back.

"Hey," Otis says, sitting beside me.

"Welcome back to the land of the semi-living," I grin.

"It's good to be back. You're better company than most alive people." Otis smiles. Otis's voice is light and airy but eyes look extra tired and I notice he's wearing the same clothes from yesterday. I wonder if he had another row with his parents. I wonder if he even went home. I know he would have if only to see Liam.

"So the agenda for tonight?" Otis asks.

"Is to try and think of ideas to get my body back," I say, matter-of-factly like it's open for casual discussion now.

"Right. Have you started without me?" He asks.

"Never." I shake my head.

A loud vibrating sound breaks the night air and I look at the base of the drill tower. No one is around; the ground is desolate. I spot the source of the disturbance. Ten yards away from the tower sits a small shed or shack.

Its door is glowing.

"Finally," I mumble.

"Finally? What's finally?" Otis shouts behind me.

I've already blinked myself off the tower. I open my eyes and find myself standing on the ground in front of the shed. Seconds later Otis is next to me again. Too quickly.

I can't think about anything other than the door.

"Come on, Otis! Come on. This is it!" I shout, grabbing Otis's hand.

"Are you sure? It just looks like a door, Quinn." Otis says next to me.

"Yes, I'm sure, Otis." I almost roll my eyes.

Otis jogs begrudgingly alongside me. I see something flicker in his eyes. It's not fear or curiosity, but something else, something I'm familiar with but cannot place.

I haven't seen this glowing door since before I met Otis, since before I discovered he was my anchor. It's a welcomed sight. Deep down, I've been planning on this room having the answers. I've been planning on discovering everything I need on the other side of this door.

I've missed the white room.

We are three steps away from the shack's door. A faded sign on the front reads Maintenance Only. I ignore the sign, ignore Otis's groan behind me, and throw myself at the door.

The door feels heavier than usual. It takes almost all of my weight to push it open and when I finally cross the threshold, pulling Otis in tow, I notice something is different.

The light is different. Yes, it is still bright and blinding, but its hue is not limited to white. Today it is a technicolor room. Flashes and flickers of color dance across the ceilings and the walls, leaving multicolored shadows behind.

My eyes spot the source at once: Televisions.

Two walls are lined with identical televisions. There must be at least twelve on each side of the room. I drop Otis's hand at my side and walk further into the room. I turn toward the wall closest to me. Up close I can see how outdated the televisions are, like old security monitors from the 1970s. Each one has a power switch and volume dial. There are no channel indicators but the televisions are already playing; each one showing its own video.

Home videos.

The middle square shows a small brown-haired girl riding a bike, laughing at the camera. My fingers touch the screen as I look down at my five-year-old self. The frame above shows a slightly older Quinn, maybe nine or ten, standing on a diving board at the swim club.

The screens flicker with static and then the footage resumes. Only, they're no longer playing home videos shot by my parents or aunts and uncles. They no longer display nostalgic memories of childhood summers or family holiday parties.  Instead they show clips of my life as if filmed by an invisible camera high above.

My eyes watch as a car slams on the brakes at an intersection. I know it's my mother's car and I know I was driving. I remember the day all too well. I had just gotten my driver's permit and was learning the basics when I slid out on ice at a four-way stop sign. Another car had gone right through and we narrowly avoided collision.

I walk along the wall, looking at all the screens down the row: Me on the swing set at the park. Hazel and I jogging along the reservoir in the summer. The trail is overgrown with lush vegetation. The screens flicker and the swim club is back, only this time the angle of the video shows it was not from my father's old camera. It's like I'm viewing the entire scene from the sky.

I am standing on the edge of the diving board, shouting something at Hazel who is holding a snow cone next to our shared chaise lounge. My eyes canvas the pool and just before I jump I spot a boy flailing in the deep end. I remember the panic and the terror as I started screaming. I screamed so hard my lungs hurt. It made my mother look up and follow my finger to the boy I was pointing at.

I had forgotten all about that boy until now. These aren't just my memories of my life. They're moments. Flashes. 

"Otis, I... I think..." My throat runs dry as the realization settles in.

I turn around to search for Otis but I already know. I see his back to me. He is staring up at the second wall of television monitors. Tears fall from his eyes as he watches the memories of his own life flash across the screens.

I look over his shoulder. I see a boy drowning in a pool. I see Otis behind the wheel of a red truck –the truck that almost killed me.

These aren't just moments. They're near death experiences.

"Otis?" I call his name, but he is transfixed.

I tug at his arm, trying to shake him back to me.

"OTIS!" I raise my voice. My hand is clutched around his wrist, but it's as if he cannot feel me anymore.

Finally he looks down at me, frowning. His eyes are bloodshot and his lips almost trembling. "I'm so sorry, Quinn."

"Otis?" My voice is quiet. All the hope I spent three days rebuilding comes crashing down around me in devastating clarity.

"I'm so sorry." He says again.

I think about how he used the word link and about how he appeared at my side so suddenly and about how he said we're in this together. He's the only one who can see me in this damn Fold, because he is in it with me.

Otis Price is in the Fold.