They took away her phone, they took away her bag. After a great deal of confusion, Hailey had to briefly explain to them what it was and some idea of how it worked. With some consideration, they decided to keep it near her cell so it would remain intact. Freshly dressed in a scratchy orange uniform, she was marched through the many steel gates and into the cell block.

  I could break out of here so easily.

  To her vague surprise, there wasn't much noise from the rest of the inmates on her arrival. At first, Hailey thought that they might not know who she was, but after a few minutes, it was obvious—they all knew exactly who she was, and they were either too scared or too uncertain of her to make any approach. It didn't stop the staring though.

  Every eye was on her. Hailey couldn't take a single step without the entire prison watching her, guards and inmates alike. She could feel it on every side, closing in, holding her down tight. Her wings flexed involuntarily again, brushing a few of the nearest inmates.

  They looked up with shock. Hailey kept her eyes straight ahead, trying to avoid any confrontation. The guard led her to her cell, where she set down the few things they'd given her. She closed the door, sat down on the bed, and stared at the wall—hoping beyond hope that she could finally be alone.

  She couldn't.

  Even without the faces of the victims to haunt her, even with the quiet, Hailey couldn't escape her memories. Flashes returned to her, but now they were more personal. Instead of victims she couldn't save, guilt produced a new monster for her. Hailey's mind crashed backward into the worst possible memories, twisting what she loved most into horrible visions.

  A burning building, where Jessica was caught in the flames, howling in agony, trying to beg for help but without words to speak.

  A street in Rallsburg, Hailey dropping Jessica to the ground and watching her get torn apart by waiting faceless golems.

  Lakewood, in the arms of a man with a gun to her head, where Jessica's body twitched from the shots before becoming far, far too still.

  Hailey curled up on the bed, trying to block out her own mind. She knew it wasn't real, knew that they weren't even memories anymore. Her mind was conjuring up new versions of events to torment her even further, driving herself away from the world, away from any hope and any joy and love she ever might have felt. Jessica, a part of her own heart, now represented the worst moments of her life, and Hailey couldn't get away. Every step she took only brought more pain, to herself and to everyone around her. There was nowhere she could go without making things worse. Alone was the only path left, the only way she could stop from causing any more hurt.

  In that cold cell, alone and broken, Hailey Winscombe cried, but there was no one left to hear her.

----------------------------------------

  "You've got a visitor," said the guard, tapping at her door.

  Hailey looked up. She hadn't heard them come in, and nobody shared her cell. Someone intruding on this little space felt wrong. Hailey was supposed to be in here alone, tormented by her memories. Nobody else should be here.

  "Come on. First day visits aren't usually allowed. Take it while you can, kid."

  Reluctantly, Hailey got to her feet. She had no idea who it would be. She had no idea how long she'd been there already. Had it been long enough that her mother would be in town yet? Hailey wasn't prepared to face her. She felt like she might not ever be ready.

  As she walked through the jail once again, everyone stopped talking. They watched every step she took. Good. Keep an eye on me. I'm dangerous. I might hurt you. I don't want to, but that hasn't helped anyone else. Hailey was barely aware of them, though. She kept her eyes low, watching the floor, following the little stripe on the ground telling her where to go.

  She was led into a small, private room—not the wall of bulletproof glass boxes with phones, or even a general public visiting room she might have expected. The guard cuffed her to the table, then left her alone again. Hailey tried to mentally prepare herself for whoever might come through the opposite door. Jefferson again? Her mother? Weston and Rupert? Cinza, somehow?

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  The door swung open.

  "...the fuck are you doing in here, Hailey?"

  Jeremy walked in, looking as tired as she felt. He fell into the steel chair on the other side of the table, rubbing at his brow.

  Hailey didn't answer. Her eyes fell back to the table.

  "Look, I get it," said Jeremy, more aggressive than the last time they'd spoken. "You feel like you fucked up. I've been there. You know how many times I've fucked up?"

  "I did a lot more than that," Hailey whispered.

  "People got killed," said Jeremy, nodding slightly. "There was a case once with Jackie. It's actually how she got all those fuckin' holes on the back of her cruiser."

  Hailey looked up, despite herself. She liked Jackie Nossinger—everybody did. For a small-town sheriff, she was extremely laid back and genuine. Even when she'd come around to break up parties Hailey often hosted, it was practically in good fun—giving the party a feeling of rebellion and college-town action without any real threat or consequences. Hailey had always gotten on well with her.

  "That case. That fuckin' case." Jeremy sighed. "See, Maddie was just gettin' into politics. I hated the idea, and nobody liked a rebel politician who refused to play by the damn rules. But hey, she started getting big, so the fuck did I know? Only, she got too big too fast. Started thinking she was way better at it than she really was, and put herself into the middle of some crazy shit."

  He leaned back in his chair with a long sigh. "Really fucked up hostage situation one day. I won't get into it, but they were holed up tight with a fuck-ton of guns and food. Could've stayed there for months, maybe years. Maddie decides she's going to be the big hero, negotiate out of it. Runs right in with the police yellin' at her to stop, gets herself tossed in with the rest of them." Jeremy grinned. "Stupid as it might be, I kinda love her for it. Stole her move for that shit back in Tacoma."

  He took a drink from the bottled water he'd brought in with him. "Anyway, point is, she got herself stuck, and Jackie and I happened to be nearby. They told me what was going on, I got involved. I was young too, and just as fuckin' headstrong. I was a homicide detective, I had no business doin' a hostage negotiation, but there I was. Shit got fucked up real quick. So Jackie decides to back up the car straight into the place. We take fire from behind, but those cruisers are thick in the back."

  Jeremy's face fell. "I rolled out, got behind cover, started firing. I wasn't thinking, and some of the hostages got shot. By my bullets. My bad move."

  Hailey winced. She knew where he was trying to go with this, and she was sympathetic, but it was completely different.

  "Jackie's the reason we got Maddie out of there. I owe her everything, Maddie owes her everything. All I did was get some innocent people killed. That shit fucked us up. They cleared me to go back to work, but I couldn't do it. Year later, neither of us were in Seattle anymore. I went to the FBI, Jackie bounced around a bit until ending up in Rallsburg."

  "I'm sorry," Hailey murmured.

  Jeremy shook his head. "It ain't on you. That's my point here. I'm not sayin' you should keep doing what you were doing. God Almighty knows I couldn't. I had to make a change, and you probably do too. But that doesn't mean you're to blame. You were doin' the job, same as me. It fucks you up, and I can't tell you it's ever gonna feel much better. But you gotta get past it. You gotta keep going."

  "How many times?" asked Hailey.

  "What?"

  "You had that whole thing," she went on, feeling awful with every word. "But how many times did you screw up that bad?" Jeremy opened his mouth to answer, but she kept going. "Because I've screwed up more times than I can remember. I got people killed. People died because I couldn't save them, because I made stupid mistakes. I could have done more, but I didn't."

  "That's not—"

  "It's my fault she died, Jeremy, in more ways than one."

  "It's Malton's fault, and Viper's fault, and the fuckin' asshole on the street who shot her. It ain't on you."

  "Except she shouldn't have been there."

  "She chose—"

  "Not with us," said Hailey impatiently. "I mean out on the street, where she got grabbed. She went because she didn't understand what I was trying to tell her. Because she couldn't understand."

  Jeremy frowned. "I thought that was 'cause of somethin' she did back when—"

  "It was my fault," Hailey continued, tears forming in her eyes. "She ended up that way because of me. I was angry, and I was yelling at Weston, and she ran away to go do the ritual. If I hadn't lost it, if Weston and I hadn't been fighting, maybe her ritual doesn't get interrupted, and she doesn't—"

  "Hailey, she was a grown-ass woman, same as you!" Jeremy shot back, visibly angry. "You're talkin' about her like she was a child and you were her mom or some shit!"

  "I was her best friend!" Hailey cried. "Her parents hated her! She was too scared to even leave the house! She had nowhere else to go in the whole world, and there I was, making her last safe place horrible!" The tears were flowing free now, and Hailey curled up on her chair as best she could, despite the handcuffs. "It's my fault. It's all my fault. I drove everyone away. All my friends, one by one, and the only one left was crippled because I can't control myself."

  "Hailey—"

  She shook her head. "I can't, Jeremy. I just can't. I'm sorry."

  Jeremy kept talking, but Hailey didn't hear another word. The memories were back. Now it was Weston and Ian and Hugo, while Jessica stood in front of them, her mouth and her ears missing, a grotesque figure with tears in her eyes while the other three stared at her. Accusing her. Blaming her.

  Hating her.

  Hailey welcomed it.