Page 47 of The Imaginary Friend's Obsession

I knew it. I smile, triumphant. “Do you understand what this means?”

Ezra frowns at my expression. I imagine how I must look—blood dripping from my nose, grinning like a maniac—and try to control myself. “That you’re in danger,” he says. “I’ve only felt this kind of malevolence once before, Daisy. It’s…” He shakes his head, sucking in a shuddering breath. “You remember how I told you that some spirits can warp over time? Turn malicious? That’s what it feels like. They become something that most of us would call ademon.”

I pause at the word “demon,” fear flickering through me, but still I cling to my original thought. “Okay, but it also means there’s another possibility we haven’t thought about.” He tilts his head, clearly not understanding, so I continue. “It means maybe it wasn’t Dorianorme that killed my parents that night. There’s someone—or something—else in the house. It was already there back then. Itmustbe the one responsible.”

And maybeit’sthe thing that was haunting me in those confusing old memories. The rules hidden under my mattress:Don’t look at it. Don’t think about it.Ezratoldme that attention is how spirits gain strength.

Ezra’s frown is thoughtful but still troubled. “If that’s the case, why wouldn’t Dorian tell us?”

My shoulders slump. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe he’s scared of it. He did say it was dangerous for me to remember.”

A strange expression crosses Ezra’s face. “When did he say that?”

I pause, realizing my mistake. “During one of our sessions? When else?”

Ezra shakes his head. “I would’ve remembered that,” he says. “I never would’ve entertained the thought of doing more memory retrieval attempts if that was the case.”

“But we have to!” I lean forward, desperate for him to understand. “Don’t you see? This is our chance to prove that Dorian is innocent. To argue for his release. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Of course it is,” Ezra says. “But not if it puts you in danger. We both know what happens when you push too hard to regain your memories. You almost drowned. Maybe that’s what Dorian was warning you about when he told you it was dangerous.” He glances at me again, brow furrowed, and I know that he still doesn’t quite believe me about when Dorian said that to me.

“Then let me ask him about it,” I say. “Face-to-face. This isn’t the sort of thing I can discuss with him through a plane of glass with the cameras on.”

Ezra shakes his head. “You know I can’t sanction that,” he says. “And it’s too risky. We have to do this right if we want to get him released. We have to be patient, for the sake of the future of the MRF and all of the other subjects there.”

Frustration boils in my chest.

“I don’tcareabout all of that,” I snap. “I don’t care about anyone but Dorian!”

Ezra flinches.

I pause, mouth open, shocked at myself. I’ve harbored guilty thoughts like that before, said it to Dorian when he needed comfort, but I didn’t mean to say it aloud. It was like something pushed the words out of me.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” I whisper. “But please, Ezra…” I lean forward, taking one of his hands in mine.

There’s a crackle of power as our fingers touch.

Ezra freezes. The color drains from his face.

I jerk back in my seat, suddenly afraid. “What?” I ask. “What did you just see?”

He looks away, his mouth opening and shutting as he struggles for words. Then he glances back at me, and his lips move, but no sound comes out, and—

* * *

I’m elsewhere. My head spins and my knees go weak, but strong arms hold me up.Fourof them.

Dazed, I blink up at a familiar white mask above me. Nearby, static and distorted bits of song scream out of the radio as it rapidly switches. “Dorian?” I whisper.

I’m in his cell. I glance around, trying to reorient myself as my head spins. Is this real? A memory? My imagination?

Dorian’s arms are solid as he holds me, but I pinch my own handhard, just in case. A flare of pain tells me this is really happening, though I’m not sure how I got here.

Looking around again, I notice that the light on the camera is off. The shutters are closed, and so is the door. It’s just Dorian and me in here, no Ezra, no MRF recording.

I don’t know what just happened, but I must’ve convinced Ezra, somehow, to bring me here. I can’t let the opportunity go to waste. I grab on to Dorian’s shirt, but he pulls back like he’s been burned. I finally get a good look at his eyes, wide and wild behind his mask. He looks…terrified.

“Dorian,” I say, my voice trembling. All of me is trembling; there’s a chill in my bones, a weird fog filling my thoughts. “We don’t have much time. I need you to tell me the truth.Please.” I reach for him, but when he flinches back, I grab at my own hair instead. Winding my fingers through the long strands in an attempt to hold myself together. “But I’m remembering. I know there was something else there that night.”

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