Page 126 of The Last Session

I lay down, staring up at the ceiling. The horror of the situation felt muted, hanging out at the edges of my periphery. If I allowed it to move in, to envelop me, I’d be completely useless.

I had to think. What had Moon said down there about Catherine? Something about coming back from the dead?

But because it was the wrong person, the portal sent her back. Catherine rose from the dead. It’s a miracle that hasn’t happened for thousands of years.

So they’d sent Catherine into the “portal,” but she’d survived. That meant there had to be a way out. The thought helped ease the blank fear back beneath the horizon. Maybe at this very moment, Grace was crawling through a tunnel, back up towards the light.

But—and I didn’t want to think about this, I really didn’t—even if Catherine had survived, she’d reappeared changed. She’d had a psychotic break. I had no idea what she’d seen down there, what she’d had to go through.

She’d sobbed to see Grace go in. So the path out hadn’t been easy.

The thought made me stick my face in the pillow and scream.

Whatever horrors she’d been through now awaited me.

For a few hours I lay there, my brain calculating, trying to puzzle a way out. At some point I passed out, falling deep into a dreamless sleep. When I woke, it was dark. Pain flared in my wrists, arms, and back. A wave of terror rose, and I pushed it back down.Focus.I slipped out of bed and squatted over the bucket, then pushed it as far away as I could reach.

Maybe, if one of them came in, I could throw the urine in their face.

And then what?

Before I sat back on the bed, I paused. This was Catherine’s room. Maybe there was something in or around the bed that could be of use. I threw back the covers, pulled off the fitted sheet—not easy with one hand. Nothing there except an old striped mattress, yellowed and dottedwith stains. I pulled the mattress up off the frame, peered underneath.

The sunglassed cat grinned back at me.

My diary.

I grabbed it and sat heavily. Its disappearance felt like it happened so long ago. The retreat itself felt quaint, like a trip I’d taken years before. Had Catherine taken it? Why?

I moved into a small patch of moonlight so I could see it. A torn scrap of paper marked one of the pages.

M and I are going to the Stargirl next week, I’m so excited!!!! We’re going to buy tickets to The Drama Queens and sneak into Stargirl instead. I know!!!! It’s a lie and I’m already praying for forgiveness from God. But I have to see it. I don’t know why, I just have this feeling. I HAVE to. I’ve even been having dreams about it. So you know how the poster for Stargirl shows the actress in this desert staring off into the distance. Last night I dreamed that she and I were in the desert together. At first we were in this really nice tent that had rugs and golden cups and stuff, and people were treating us like ROYALTY. And then we woke up and everyone was gone. They’d left us there!! It was really scary because we knew that we were going to die of thirst!! We just had this little pouch of water. And then this snake appeared and maybe it was because we’d started hallucinating (sp?) but it started talking to us!! It asked which one of us wanted to be a sacrifice. We were like: ??? And the snake explained more but I don’t remember what happened/what we decided. Then I woke up.

I let out a deep breath. I didn’t remember this dream, but if Catherine had read about it, she could’ve told Moon. But if she had—why was the diary hidden? And besides, even if Moon had known I’d had this dream at thirteen, how had she known I’d be dreaming about it here? It was also slightly different: I hadn’t remembered being out in the desert with a group, but now it felt familiar. I could almost hear it, feel it: the clang of wine goblets, the shout of tipsy laughter, the soft fur underneath my elbow.

It was different fromStargirl, in which guards had unceremoniously dumped her and left.

The moon shifted; the whole room was now dark. I slipped the diaryback under the mattress, tried to fashion the sheets and blankets back as they’d been.

A new wave of despair washed over me, and I sobbed into the pillow until it was soaked. After, I lay on my side, staring into the pitch-black room. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be. Determination surged into my belly.

There was no way I was going down that hole.

50

“Good morning.” Moon swept in, carrying a tray. She looked particularly radiant in a long marigold dress that set off her eyes.

I’d woken up hours earlier, unable to fall back asleep because of the ache in my arms and wrists. So I’d watched the room turn from black to silver to gold. My mind had jumped around constantly, probing and prodding, searching for a way out.

Now I sat up warily.

“You want some breakfast?” Moon gently set the tray next to me: a steaming omelet, butter-drenched toast, a fresh banana.

“Is there any way we could put this on my nondominant hand?” I held up my shackled right wrist.

“I’ll help you.” She dragged a chair over and picked up the banana, peeled with deft fingers. “How are you feeling today?”

“How am I feeling?” I stared at her. She was acting like this was completely normal.

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