Chapter 4

When I finally allowed a sliver of awareness back, hours later, Anna was humming.

She was in Caleb' s small room in The Hollow.

He was asleep beside her.

Her satisfaction was a palpable thing, a smug warmth that radiated through the shared body.

See, Sarah? Her thought was a lazy, triumphant drawl in my mind. He chose me. He wants me.

He was so sweet. So tender. Worried about me being scared.

She believed I hadn' t been "watching."

She thought I was too broken, too submerged to witness her victory.

Her malice was casual, confident. She was flaunting her conquest.

Caleb stirred, his arm tightening around Anna' s waist in his sleep.

He didn' t push her away. He pulled her closer.

Even in sleep, his body chose her.

His acceptance of her presence, his unconscious embrace, was a final, brutal confirmation.

He was lost to me. Completely.

He knew I existed. He knew Anna and I shared this body.

He knew this would destroy what little was left between us.

And he did it anyway.

His betrayal wasn' t passive anymore. It was active. Chosen.

A tremor started in my hands, my real hands, the ones Anna controlled.

She wouldn' t feel it, not like I did.

For me, it was an earthquake, shaking the foundations of my inner world.

I, who had faced down Spore-Walker hordes without flinching, who had dragged Michael from a burning barn while my own flesh sizzled.

I was trembling uncontrollably.

Not from fear of death, or pain.

But from this. This utter, soul-crushing heartbreak.

The sight of them together, the casual intimacy, Anna' s smug victory.

It was a torment beyond any physical threat.

I couldn' t bear it.

The darkness I' d sought earlier, I craved it now with a desperate intensity.

I slammed the shutters closed in my mind, plunging my inner room into absolute blackness.

Blocked my ears. Shut down every sense.

Total oblivion.

It was the only escape.

The only way to survive the unendurable.

I retreated so deep, I wasn' t sure I' d ever find my way back.

Let them have their world. I wanted no part of it.

Days later, a flicker of consciousness returned. Unbidden.

Anna was laughing.

She was in the common area of The Hollow, surrounded by Michael, Caleb, and other community members.

They were sharing a scavenged can of peaches, a rare treat.

It was her birthday. The anniversary of the fire.

The day my life ended and Anna' s began.

They were celebrating her.

Caleb spoon-fed her a piece of peach, his eyes soft.

Michael regaled them with a story, and Anna' s laughter tinkled, light and carefree.

As if the world wasn' t a graveyard. As if my sacrifice meant nothing.

The scene was a twisted parody of happiness, played out against the backdrop of my silent agony.

I watched them.

No more trembling. No more rage.

Just a vast, empty coldness.

The truth was undeniable, stripped bare of any lingering hope or illusion.

Caleb loved Anna.

Or, at least, he loved the idea of her, the comfort she offered, the escape from the harshness I represented.

It wasn' t a sudden revelation.

It was a slow, agonizing dawning, like watching a fatal wound bleed out, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Love, I realized, could be the cruelest torment of all.

Especially when it was given to someone else, someone who wore your face.

Someone who was, in essence, your replacement.