My body goes slack, my mind numb. The pain comes in waves, stinging, burning, and aching. I can't see. I can barely even feel it as he carries me. I have no idea where I am. Time moves slowly, and the world feels distant.

I've been here before and I'll be here again. Pain will pass. It always does.

"He's still alive," I hear Marcus say, his voice sounding strangely far away. A muffled voice replies. Is he on the phone?

Time passes again as I dip in and out of consciousness.

"Thank you, Doctor. I know it's late..."

"...get her to a hospital..."

"...more danger there... Mr Salt..."

I open my sore, puffy eyes, taking in a deep breath. Bright lights burn my eyes and I let out a panicked whimper. Tears spill, and I feel them dripping down the sides of my face. Marcus appears above me. He is blurry, my vision impacted by the swelling. Despite that, I can see that he is pale.

"You're okay, Ivy," he says. "I've got a doctor here, she's the best of the best."

I try to speak, to ask where here is, but my mouth is swollen and I can feel my energy depleting.

"Shhh," he says softly. "Don't try to speak."

"I've got the drip ready and anaesthesia to numb the area ready for stitches," the doctor says in the background.

He nods his head and looks back at me. I feel his hand on my head, gently stroking my hair.

"We're going to look after you, Ivy. Doctor Trell is going to numb the areas where you need stitches and we're going to give you a drip with morphine in to help with the pain."

"Sleep?" I manage to stutter. He smiles softly.

"Yes, Ivy. You can sleep," he says. I let out a long breath, my body relaxing and shut my swollen eyes.

I feel a slight pinch in my forehead and wince. A moment later, hands grip my wrist. There is a stronger, stinging pain and I know it is the doctor inserting the IV line.

Numbness fills me once more and I let go of my body. But I don't want to sleep. I have something else in mind and now is the best time to do it.

Heaviness presses against me and my muscles tingle. My breathing evens out and soon, my body is asleep and my consciousness is floating above it. I stare down at my body and gulp. I am a mess.

I've been stripped down to my underwear, which is covered in blood. My blood.

A deep gash sits from the outer corner of my left eye, up to the hairline on my temple. There's another, deeper slice across the top of my right breast, starting at the armpit and ending in the centre of my breasts, right at the cleavage. My bra is completely drenched in deep, browning blood.

My face is completely swollen, my eyes surrounded by great bight bruises and my lips cut and puffy. More giant bruises are beginning to form over my stomach, especially on my ribs.

The skin that isn't covered in drying blood, is unnaturally pale.

For a few seconds, I watch as the doctor, a woman wearing a fancy blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, expertly begins to stitch up the cut on my breasts, her hands steady and her actions quick.

Marcus holds a flannel, dipping it into a bucket of water beside him and gently dabbing away at the blood.

Blood.

I look down at my ghostly hands and smile.

Clarkie's blood is still embedded under my nails from where I scratched him. It glows gold and a thin thread leads away from my fingers into the world outside. I look back at my body and then at Marcus.

For a second, I nearly panic.

I'm disobeying orders.

I am dream walking in front of the very man in charge of hunting down people like me.

I am lying, on a table in front of him, dream walking.

Hot fear pulses through me and, for a second, I want to return to my body. I force that fear down and look back at the thread that leads to Clarkie.

I need to end him. Now.

Everything in my body screams at me not to do this. There is no Connor here to protect my body. I am completely vulnerable.

But, Marcus is expecting me to remain unconscious for a while. It is now or never. I may never get an opportunity like this again.

Clarkie needs to die.

So, I pull on the golden threads.

I'm yanked from the room. Around me, the world is a blur as it passes by at speeds the human mind can't comprehend. Then, I'm back in the ally.

I remember Clarkie talking back in the restaurant, claiming that no dream walker can get to him because he keeps his head shaved, so there's no hair for them to gather.

But we can use blood too.

I smirk as I float towards him. He's conscious, leaning against the wall. His nose is broken, and he's missing some teeth. His breathing is laboured but his cloudy eyes are bright with anger.

"Fucking prick," he mutters to himself and shuffles onto his feet, using the wall to help him. He reaches into his pocket for his phone with shaking hands and brings up his contacts.

That is when I step into his body.

Immediately, he stiffens. The phone drops out of his hands before he can dial Mr Salt. Never has taking over someone's body been so satisfying.

I feel his panic, his fear. It tastes bitter. Soon, his body is mine. I feel all his pain from the injuries sustained by Marcus, but I ignore it. I square his shoulders and stretch his fingers, getting used to feeling his body. It's like wearing a second skin. It's tight and itchy.

Clarkie pushes at my mind, but I squash him with effortless ease, laughing as I do so. Unlike my normal targets, I don't push him away completely. I let him linger, let him watch as I take control.

I look around, seeing through his eyes. His vision is blurry, thanks to Marcus' beatings. But it wasn't as bad as mine had been.

As expected, there are no cameras here. Clarkie had done his research.

"You were right about me," I say with his voice, wanting him to know it's me. He pushes at my mind once more, desperation cursing through him, filling his body with adrenaline.

"I want you to know that you fell right into my trap," I say out loud as I start to limp out of the alley. He slams against me, trying to fight back control.

"I don't think so," I laugh, pushing him back down with ease. I swear I can hear him screaming. It brings a big smile to my – his – face. I leave the alleyway, limping and shuffling uncomfortably.

Clarkie continues to push against me, his consciousness slamming into mine. It is no use. It's like slamming into an unbreakable wall. I laugh at him.

"I'm going to break every part of your body," I say, repeating his words back to him.

He screams in my mind once more, the sound distant, but strangely haunting. The more he pushes, the more his body reacts. Sweat, hot and sticky, breaks out across his skin. I can feel it dribbling down his face and back. His limbs shake and tremble. But I carry on walking, entering the main street.

It is quieter now. I keep his head down. The few who do pass his pale, sweating, beaten and bloody body, look away quickly. No one in the right mind would stop to talk to this man.

Clarkie slams against me once more but I squash him down. I stumble towards the underground station, making it look like he's dazed and uneasy on his feet.

As I get to the top of the stairs, his mind slams into mine again. I almost stumble as, for just a second, he takes back control of his right leg. I push him back, laughing in his head, knowing he can hear it.

Then, I hobble slowly down the stairs. I want to drag this out. I want to feel his terror as long as possible as I slowly lead him to his death and he knows there is nothing he can do to stop it.

I reach the bottom and walk through the passages, lit with their blinding white lights. Soon, I am coming out onto the station. I look up at the notice board.

Next Train: 8 mins.

Thank goodness for a twenty-four-hour train service.

Upon seeing it, Clarkie screams again. I can feel him scratching and clawing beneath the surface, pulling at my subconsciousness. I let him get close, let him think he has a chance. Then, with a satisfying push, I squash him back with little effort.

He has a weak mind and I am angry.

Worse than that, I am vengeful and full of so much rage that it threatens to bubble out of me like a stream of white-hot lava. I may have been rescued from his barbarity. But I dread to think how many women haven't been.

With that thought, a new wave of strength fills me, making it easy to keep his pathetic, silly little mind at bay.

I continue to make his body sway. When the investigators look back at the CCTV, or more specifically Marcus – who will inevitably handle the case because of who Clarkie is, it will look like he stumbled down here a concussed, stumbling mess. Plus, Marcus won't question it. He'll be as happy Clarkie is dead as I am.

The case will be closed and ruled an accident. It will be the most foolproof kill I've done since I got to this horrible realm.

The few people in the station don't go near him. They shoot weary glances and stand as far away as they can.

Good, they won't get in the way.

However, I do feel pity for them for having to see what is about to happen.

In the distance, the low thunder of the approaching train can be heard. I look at the dark tunnel, resisting the urge to smile as the screeching of metal grows closer.

Slowly, I stumble towards the edge, still swaying on my feet.

Clarkie's screams grow even more frantic. Especially when his toes hang over the platform. The concrete ground vibrates beneath my feet as the fast-approaching train draws closer.

Light appears in the dark tunnel. Clarkie's body trembles violently as he desperately tries to claw back control. But I won't budge. I keep him held there as the booming of the train grows louder and louder until it is all I can hear.

Then, it appears out of the tunnel, thundering into the station. I laugh once more in Clarkie's mind, before swaying on his feet, rolling his eyes back into his head, and collapsing forward as though he's passed out from his injuries.

The train screeches.

I feel a flash of burning, twisting pain.

The world goes black.

I wake in my own body, my eyes fluttering open. I let out a long breath and groan at all the aches and pains. There is no more stinging, burning pain at least. Just deep, throbbing aches that have settled throughout my body.

It's nothing I'm not used to. I tilt my head to the side and see Marcus and the doctor talking a few feet away from me, their backs turned. I blink slowly, trying to comprehend where I am.

Turning my head the other way, I see what looks like a very large, and very modern kitchen. With smooth, black fittings, wooden panelling, and fancy appliances on the counters and built into the walls, this place is both minimalist and luxurious at the same time.

Where am I?

I lift my head slightly and look down at my body. A clean, black blanket has been laid over it. My gaze moves to my arm and I frown at the strange tube sticking out of it, linking to a bag hanging from a metal pole.

I lift my other arm up, finding the cut on my forehead. Strips of tape have been layered over it, covering the stitches.

"Ivy," Marcus says. I jump and turn to him.

"What's going on?" I ask drearily.

"You were attacked," he says. Tears fill my eyes.

"What's the damage?" I ask, my voice breaking.

Marcus clenches his jaw and stays silent for a moment.

"We should talk about it at another time. You need to rest and sleep more."

"Okay," I say, shifting awkwardly on the hard table.

"I'll take you to bed," he says. The doctor comes over and unhooks me from the drip, but doesn't pull the wire from my arm. I assume, that once I'm in bed, I'll be clipped into it again. I think. I have no idea how any of it works.

Marcus helps me sit up and I wince as pain shoots through my ribs. They are definitely broken. It's happened to me enough that I know the feeling.

Gently, Marcus puts his arms around my back and under my legs. I lean into his chest as he lifts me. Closing my eyes, I take in his comforting warmth. As carefully as he can, he leads me through some fancy corridors and into a huge bedroom. If I were more alert, I would take it in more. But as soon as he lays me on the soft bed, I feel my eyes and mind grow heavy.

"Where am I?" I ask absentmindedly as the doctor attaches the drip once more. Marcus smiles softly at me and brushes some of my hair from my face.

"You're in my home, Ivy," he says, and my mouth nearly drops open in shock.