“Jo,” he says softly.
“We don’t have time for this,” I say. “If Holden isn’t already here, he’s on his way.”
Finn looks at Cecily. “Help me pull her up,” Finn says to me, voice low.
I huff and nod. We make our way to the bed, one at the head, the other at the end, and manage to raise it off its side. The bed rights itself roughly, and Cecily’s head slams against the mattress. I can’t find any remorse for it.
“Thank you,” Cecily says.
“Don’t thank us,” I snap. “If it were up to me, I’d jam you into one of those chambers.”
None of this feels like me. This vitriol, this anger. I have spent so much time coasting through my life instead of living it. Floating above all the things that might hurt me. A muted existence.
But being down here, teetering between freedom and death, it’s like something has woken up in my very cells.
I don’t want to just not die. I want to live. And more than that, I want Finn, Jasper, Aisha, and Sloane to live.
The only thing standing in the way is this girl, living on borrowed time. Her hands may not be soaked in blood, but they are spattered with it.
“You have to give us the code, Cece,” Finn says.
Cecily shakes her head.
“How do you live with yourself?” I ask, and I truly mean it. After months buckling under the weight of what I might have done differently after the accident on that cold roadside, I can’t fathom a lifetime of it. But Cecily has been receiving these treatments—letting others die so she doesn’t—for over a decade. And the whole time, she’s gone about her life. Gone to school, had friends, gone to summer camp.
“What’s the alternative?” she asks, and there is a layer of bitterness to her tone. It doesn’t soften me toward her, though.
Back at my house, my family—what’s left of it—is inevitably facing one of their darkest days. Jasper is gone, and now I am, too. We’ve vanished, like Finn, like Sloane and Aisha and Ingrid and so many more.
“Please,” I say, changing tactics, because I’m running out of options and time. I may be able to gain ground with Cecily, but Holden won’t be swayed. He’s too deep into this hole to even remember the sun shines above it. “My baby brother is down here. He’s seven years old. Aisha and Sloane aren’t even sixteen. And Finn—” He stiffens against my side, and I have to swallow the thickness pushing up my throat. “They don’t deserve this.”
Cecily opens her mouth to speak, but I don’t let her.
“If you don’t stop this, it’s not your dad killing us. It’s you. You’ll be the reason none of us get to graduate high school or even start it. The reason we don’t fall in love or celebrate birthdays orholidays. Do you really want that weight on your shoulders?” I ask. “Because I know how heavy it is. And it may not be right now, or next week, but eventually it’ll break you. And you’ll be as lost as the rest of us.”
Cecily presses her lips together. A beat passes, then she says, “If I do that…If I do that, I’ll…”
“Die,” I say.
She nods.
The wave of hopelessness gathering at my feet crashes forward, threatening to topple me where I stand. “You said you were a good person. This is where you prove it. Please, Cecily. I’m begging you.” Tears blur my vision, and I swipe them away angrily. “Please.”
I find Finn’s hand, thread his fingers through mine. Squeeze.
He squeezes back. “We have to go, Jo. Maybe there’s another way out,” he says.
I want to stay here, argue with Cecily until she gives in, but even I can see that it will go nowhere. I can’t convince Cecily to save us. She has to convince herself.
I nod and step away from Finn, leaving him to balance his weight against one of the counters. Cecily stiffens and leans away from me, but I don’t meet her eyes, I just retighten the straps around her ankles and wrists.
“You’re done with plausible deniability,” I say. “Whatever happens next is on you.”
I step back to Finn, slipping an arm around his waist and making for the door.
“Wait,” Cecily says as my hand brushes the doorknob.
I look over my shoulder at her. She looks pathetic, tied to a bed, her hair a mess, her eyes wild and wide. She speaks through gritted teeth as she says, “I’m sorry.”
