(Updated every Sunday)

Hours after I fall asleep, I bolt awake in my makeshift bed, fighting for my life. Strong hands hold my arms and stop my struggles, but the speaker's voice is gentle when he says, "Relax, Rose. Relax and breathe."

That explains the burning in my chest. I try to suck in a deep breath. "I--I can't. I can't breathe!"

"Yes, you can. Open your eyes and look at me."

My heart is pounding harder than I can ever remember it doing. It's unnatural and scary, like it'll explode any minute. Fighting to take in miniscule amounts of air, I blink until I get a clear image of Marcus kneeling beside me on my sleeping bag.

"You're having a panic attack," he says, letting go of my arms once I stop struggling. "That's all. There's nothing wrong with you."

It doesn't feel like a panic attack. It feels like someone has a vice grip on my airway, and I'm rapidly suffocating to death.

Marcus lays a warm hand on my stomach and continues in a gentle tone, "I want you to start taking deeper breaths. Feel them here, not your chest. Nice and slow. Focus on that and forget about everything else. Don't worry about the heart attack you think you're feeling, because that's not real either."

He walks me through it, timing my inhales and exhales and asking me to relax different muscle groups as I slowly climb down from the panic attack. My muscles are quivering with fatigue by the end of it. I collapse back on my sleeping bag, relishing each sweet drag of the chilling early spring air, disappointed when Marcus removes his hand and straightens up.

That's when I notice the noise in the background, the murmurs as my companions grumble about the loss of precious sleep and the inconvenience of having to put up with my constant antics. Clearly this panic attack isn't the first or even the second I've experienced.

"Willow," Marcus says, turning to her as she sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes. Her curly blond hair sticks out in all directions. "I thought the hypnosis was supposed to stop these nightmares."

That's when it comes back to me. The reason I woke up so violently. I was buried alive in my nightmare, surrounded by thick, shifting dirt, not able to move an inch, not able to see in the encompassing dark, not able to breathe. And not able to scream. Shuddering, I curl up on my side and try not to remember the awful details.

"I thought so, too," she says tiredly. "I thought her nightmares and subsequent panic attacks were a product of stress. But maybe they aren't."

Marcus flings out his arms in apparent annoyance. "What else would they be?"

It's Willow's turn to be angry. "How would I know? I'm not an expert."

"No, but you promised she'd get better." He looks at me, the now familiar disgust and resentment simmering in his eyes, before turning back to Willow. "This isn't better. She's still a liability. I won't be around to talk her down from the ledge every time. Find a way to fix her."

He stomps off, leaving behind a clearly exasperated Willow. I feel like I've been sucker punched. For a few minutes, I completely forgot how much he hates me. The mood between us felt like it was before. Especially with his use of the nickname he gave me back at the facility. Rose. I took it as an insult when we first met, but overtime it became a term of endearment, a glimpse into the way he viewed my visible outward appearance and my hidden flaws and embraced me for both of them.

And once again, things are different between us. The affection has evaporated like water on a melting sidewalk: gone without a trace, like it never existed.



It takes us a little over thirty minutes to get ready for departure. The nightmare still lingers in my mind, but its grip on me has loosened by the time I head to the employee bathroom and splash water on my face. I brush my teeth next to a surprisingly chatty Janie, who dishes about the kids I'm not familiar with. Which includes Saige, Marcus's flavor-of-the-month, as Janie calls her disdainfully.

Saige went home to her family shortly after we escaped from the facility. She had traded phone numbers with Pablo and was still in touch with him when she had her seizure four months ago. Both of her parents blanked and tried to kill her. She barely escaped and managed to hide out until we were able to get to her. Apparently she and Marcus had a thing that first week at the facility, so she latched on to him once she got here and rode out the earthquake that was the end of our relationship.

I tilt my bottle back and swish water around in my mouth before spitting it down the dirty sink. "What's her ability?"

Janie is brushing her teeth vigorously, her dark locks pulled into a tousled ponytail. "You remember how Weasel could project and control emotions?"

"Vividly," I murmur. He used the ability to control the Blanks at Eli's command and killed many innocent kids with it. And I killed him after momentarily blanking.

"She can project images and make people see things that aren't there. Visual hallucinations."

She can make people see things that aren't there, and Lisa can make people not see things that are there, specifically herself. Weasel's ability allowed him to manipulate all emotions, whereas Alec's ability was limited to reducing unpleasant emotions, as well as reducing pain. Janie is like a human tranquilizer, and Willow can brainwash people.

Our powers are nothing more than variations of one another, the differences based on the individual's personality. Like we each got a portion of a whole. I wonder if this means the Shroud, the beings responsible for what we are, have fragments of the psychic abilities like we do or if they're capable of using any and all of them.

Janie spits foamy toothpaste into her sink and starts washing off her toothbrush. Then she sticks the toothbrush and toothpaste into one of the front pockets on her backpack. "She's useless in spite of her ability."

"You don't like her," I observe.

"What's there to like? She's a whiny and scared little girl with major entitlement issues." She smirks. "Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against useless people. I do have a problem with useless people who think they're worth more than they are."

We leave the bathroom together and I ponder her words. "Is that why you don't hate me now? Because I don't have entitlement issues?"

"It doesn't hurt that you're also usually useful."

I stop her with a hand on her arm, grateful for the chance to know more about the enigmatic past year but afraid of pushing it. "I know you said a lot has changed between us, which is why you're nice to me now. And I know I'm not supposed to know about my past in case Willow's hypnosis unravels, but maybe you can tell me what happened from your perspective. Why the change of heart?"

Janie grins. "You're a tricky one, aren't you?"

"If that's what you want to call it."

"You really want to know what changed for me?" Without warning, she places her hand on the wall beside my head and leans in so close I can smell the toothpaste on her breath. "It's because you're incredibly irresistible, April. Those big baby blues and pouty lips of yours. Don't tell Marcus, but we've had some really good times together."

My expression must convey how bewildered and horrified I feel because she pushes off the wall, cracking up with laughter. "Oh my God, that was priceless. That right there is why we're friends. You're an endless source of amusement."

"Good to know," I say after her, flushed with mortification.

She's still chuckling when we rejoin the others and gather our supplies. I follow them outside and across the street to another building, where two rusty old vans are parked. Willow asks me to join them in the faded blue one, but Marcus stops her.

"She's coming with me," he says curtly.

I don't fool myself into thinking he wants to spend time with me. He probably wants to keep an eye on me in case I pull another disappearing act or find a way to reach out to my so-called boyfriend.

Janie stops by the other van and says to me, "Just so you know, this is the fun van. Good luck with Mr. Grumpy and the Snooze Crew."

Marcus scowls after her before he turns to Saige, "Ride with Pablo today."

Her mouth drops open in shock and then indignation. She's wearing tight jeans that showcase her slender legs and a stylish charcoal-gray coat that reaches just above her knees. And here I am, looking like I survived an apocalypse.

"Why?" she demands.

He leans down to whisper in her ear, but I hear him clearly. "Because I need to make sure she doesn't try anything, and you're too distracting." He grins almost salaciously as he pulls back. "I'll make it up to you later."

"Promise?" she says with a burgeoning smile.

I look away when he kisses her, my stomach in knots and my eyes prickling with telltale tears. How did I stand this for months? Ten hours in and I'm already tempted to leave and never look back.

When he gestures at me, I get in the passenger seat without putting up a fight and hope that Davey is tailing us. I can't imagine how else I'll manage to find him. I feel a trickle of unease when I remember what Marcus said about Davey last night.

"What happened with Davey?" I ask when Marcus starts the van. "You made it sound like he had a falling out with you guys."

Marcus backs the van out and drives down the deserted street. Conversation picks up behind us, drowning out the tense silence between us. I give up on getting an answer and buckle my seatbelt. "Is that what he called it?" he finally says. "A falling out?"

"He didn't talk about it. He told me many things, but not about that."

"Why am I not surprised?" he mutters.

"So? What did he do?"

No answer. I resist the urge to grind my teeth. "You know, if you would just tell me things, I wouldn't have to go looking for answers on my own. It would help to know who I can trust."

Marcus glances at me with a sneer. "You sure you can trust me?"

"Yes," I say without a microsecond of hesitation. I might not have my memories, but everything that happened between us has left a deep mark in me. An unshakeable faith in the person he is. Whatever the reason we broke up, it's not because I didn't trust him.

The muscles in his shoulders bunch beneath his leather jacket. He stares out of the windshield, his jaw tight. "Your boyfriend robbed us blind. We took him in because he's your friend's brother, and he paid us back by taking eight thousand dollars from us and disappearing in the middle of the night."

My eyes widen. "Eight thousand dollars? Where did we get that kind of money?"

"We have a van full of kids who can do impossible things and you're asking me that?"

I'm tempted to ask exactly how we got the money, but I don't appreciate his condescending tone. Maybe Willow and Janie robbed a bank together.

"Why did he do it?" I ask.

"You know better than I do. Or you did, at least."

"I didn't tell you?"

He glances at me with annoyance. "Look, I'm not here to help you fill in the gaps about the history between you and your boyfriend. You figure that shit out in your own time."

I grab onto the door handle when he takes a sharp turn and puts us on a busy street. There are buildings around us, mostly residential, and tons of shops in between. So many people around. An elderly man arranging flower pots outside a grocery store, a pair of women sitting on the patio of a coffee shop, a school bus stopping to pick up a group of middle schoolers. It's like I've been stuck inside a hole for so long that these sights are completely new to me.

"Why are we going to Denver?" I ask.

No answer. Great, we're back to this again.

"I get that you don't like me very much," I say evenly, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice, "but keeping me in the dark isn't going to help any of us. I need to know what I'm getting into so that I don't mess it up for the rest of you."

He glances in the rearview mirror. "Adam. Fill her in."

"I didn't ask Adam," I snap. "I asked you, and the decent thing you can do is answer me."

"I don't owe you any explanations."

My anger turns to bewilderment. I stare at his harsh side profile, my head aching from my attempts to figure it all out. "What happened to us, Marcus? Why do you hate me so much? How did things get this bad?"

"I don't hate you," he says softly.

A lump forms in my throat. "You don't?"

"No. I couldn't care less about you."

The words drill a painful hole through my heart. I snap off the seatbelt and turn for the back, squeezing by the first two rows of seats until I get to the last one, putting as much distance between me and Marcus's hurtful words as I can get. I mumble an apology to Rachelle when I step on her toes and sink into the seat by the window.

"Don't sweat it, April," she whispers. I'm too raw with aching to care that all six occupants of the van heard us loud and clear. "His bark is worse than his bite, but you already know that."

The problem is that his bark is enough to torment me. I stare out of the window. I don't want to talk about this. Focus on something, anything, else. "Why are we going to Denver?"

"Because of Matthew Hill," she says. "That's the guy's name. He was a quiet kid back at the facility. Didn't really have any friends. His whole apartment building blanked when he flipped--as in, when he had a seizure."

"How many people are we talking?" I ask.

"Forty-five according to the news."

I inhale sharply. "Forty-five Blanks?"

"Yep. It's usually worse in packed areas."

The van goes hard over a pothole, and those of us in the back take the brunt of the impact. I glare at the back of Marcus's head, wondering if he did that on purpose. "How are we going to find him?" I ask Rachelle.

She indicates Lisa next to her. "Usually, Lisa will go in first and do some reconnaissance. Then we spend a few days in the area: question the locals and hopefully beat the police to the flipper."

"And the Blanks?"

She bites her plump bottom lip. "We kill them when and where we can."

We must have left quite a body count across the country. "Besides rescuing flippers, what else have we been doing?"

"Running from Gardiner and the Shroud. It's a full-time job." She gives me a sidelong glance. "At some point you wanted us to try to use the Blanks to find the Shroud."

"Rachelle," Lisa hisses, looking fearfully in Marcus's direction. "We are not supposed to tell her anything about her past!"

"Oops." She shrugs her slim shoulders. "Lisa's right. You're better off not knowing."

I lean back, disturbed by that. If this is better than losing my memories, I wonder just how terrible the past eight months of my life have been.



(A/N: Sorry for the shorter length! I couldn't squeeze one more scene into this without delaying the upload day. Thanks for all of the feedback and I'm so happy to see more people discovering the sequel as the weeks go by. Until next time!)