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“Ahhhh!” I scream with exasperation. The beginning of a headache throbs between my eyes.

I walk back into the bedroom and grab a pair of boxers and a t-shirt from his closet and put them on. I let my body flop backward on the bed—the absence of gravity for half a second embraces me, until I hit the mega comfy mattress. My pink piggy is near the pillow. Without thinking, I bring it to my chest and stare at the white ceiling.

I feel like crap. My head hurts; my mind can’t stop conjuring shit. And I’m worried about Raph. About everything. I’m irritable and restless. All signs of an adrenaline dump. My body is slowly coming down from the rush. The drop in blood sugar is causing my legs to feel tingly and my hands to shake slightly.

The only two things that are giving me comfort right now are the piggy plastered against my pec and the small nightlight illuminating the bedroom, both given to me by Raph.

I wish he was here.

The headache is getting worse. And as I close my eyes, some of the dark jumble of memories that crowded my head while I was in that alley comes back. The deep fear from the knife attack must have unlocked my brain, which leaked flashes of that horrible past. In my uneven breathing, there’re still lingering traces of the terror I relived. Raph—or should I say Subject Two—was in every recollection. Watching me. Helping me. His constant presence felt natural. Essential.

It still is. I still need him, here with me.

Chapter 16

MICHAEL

I must have fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes, the headache is gone. But I feel groggy. I’m in the fetal position on my side. The piggy is crushed between my arms. The clock on the dresser shows that I’ve been asleep for three hours. I lift my head when I hear a noise from the living room. Thinking it’s Raph, I slide awkwardly off the bed, hurry out of the bedroom, and down the corridor.

But it’s Rami’s brawny body standing in the kitchen. His wide shoulders flex under the thin t-shirt. Who says that hackers can’t be built like a tank? He turns and moves toward the couch, holding a bowl full of popcorn. Some animal documentary is on TV.

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty. You really did meet Maleficent last night,” he teases. But his gaze quickly slides up and down my body, like he’s checking if I’m okay.

“Where’s Raph?” I ask, looking around even though I know he’s not in the apartment. Because he’d be all over me, as he always is when I’m near.

“What the fuck are those?” Rami jumps up from the sofa and rushes toward me, lifting my arms with his red-gloved hands.

I freeze, hit by self-consciousness. “Fuck! I forgot about them,” I murmur.

I forgot about them,I repeat slowly in my head.

I feel surprised by my carelessness, and also… good. I’ve never left my arms bare before, too afraid people will see the scars and turn their judgmental or, even worse, pitiful eyes on me. Too embarrassed by the sight myself. But now? Now I know it’s going to be okay. I’m starting to accept them as part of who I am. Of who I’ve become. A small smile stretches my lips.

“Why do you look happy? Who did this to you, Michael? I will personally pass the axe to Raph when we find them.”

All so violent in this family. Maybe I’m right and they are criminals. The thought doesn’t scare me as much as it should.

“No need for that.” I pat his arm affectionately. “Unless you want to help Raph kill me.” I chuckle, touched by his caring disposition toward me.

“Say that again?” Rami is looking at me like I’m a nut job, and maybe I am.

“It’s a long story. But you don’t need to worry about it. Did you see my phone?” I move past him, searching for it.

“There.” He points at the sideboard near the entrance.

I unlock it and notice a message from several hours ago from Detective Polsner.

Dr Caldwell, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to talk to you privately about some new evidence I found. Please contact me as soon as you can.

Now it’s too late—or should I say too early—to reply to the Detective, so I type out a message to Raph, asking where he is.

“Did you hear from your brother?”

“Which one?”

“Raph.” Obviously.

“Oh, the foster brother.”