Don’t give them one voice,Donnelly warns.They’ll choose it.
That’s the trick, isn’t it. They don’t want me broken. They want me simplified.
I tilt my head slightly, listening inward instead of outward. Silas is steady, cool, observant. Donnelly paces, sharp and angry, energy bleeding off him in sparks.
I need both.
I rock once, forward and back, before I can stop myself.
Snow notices immediately.
So does the room.
I freeze, breath caught halfway in.
Careful,Donnelly warns.
The rocking stops. The pressure doesn’t. I swallow. My mouth is painfully dry. When I speak – if I speak – I don’t know who will answer.
That terrifies me more than hunger.
Honey shifts, starts to stand, then catches himself and sits again, arms wrapping around his knees like he’s holding himself together. His guilt is loud. It buzzes in the air, a frequency that makes Donnelly twitch.
He’s going to try again,Donnelly says.He won’t be able to stop.
He doesn’t have to,Silas replies.We do.
I close my eyes for one dangerous second and see the grey room from before. The nothing. The absence. The place where I almost lost them entirely.
No.
I open my eyes sharply and focus on Hatchet’s hands instead. The tremor. The control layered over it. Real. Present.
The room hums.
Then the worst thing happens.
It stops paying attention to me.
The pressure eases. The lean withdraws.
I feel…lighter.
Invisible.
A rush of relief floods my chest, sharp and intoxicating.
They forgot us,Silas whispers, awe and panic tangled together.They forgot us.
No,Donnelly says immediately.They didn’t forget. They’re deprioritising.
The word hits like a blade.
I understand it instantly. Being ignored is not mercy. It’s preparation. If I don’t matter, then what happens to me doesn’t either.
My chest tightens. My breathing goes shallow without my permission. The edges of the room blur, colours washing out until everything looks thin and unreal.
I’m fading,Silas whines, voice suddenly distant.I don’t like this. I don’t like?—
