“Worth it!” I chirp, and slurp crème brulee. I start coughing massively.

“Choke quietly,” He turns back to the laptop, and mutters to himself. “There. Finally. This guy is ridiculously good. But if I run the byte scan, I can –”

He goes still, like a deer hearing a gun cock.

“I’m…dying…” I remind him from the general vicinity of the floor.

“The IP traces back to Good Falls, Florida. Your hometown,” He says. “Someone from your hometown sent you this. It has to be someone you know. Who do you know from back then that’s good at computers?”

My heart stutters, and I stop pretending to die and start actually dying.

“Isis? What’s wrong?”

I stare up at the hotel ceiling, debating how many steps it’d take for me to get to the toilet. I don’t wanna throw up on Jack again, no matter how marvelous the last time was. Jack’s face looms over my vision.

“Isis? You’re pale –”

“Him,” I say softly. “He won the state hacking championship for the middle school division every year.”

“Who?”

I thought he’d left me alone. I never thought the email could be him. An almost-year of silence convinced me I was free.

I grit my teeth and put my hands over my eyes, like it’ll block out the darkness. I knew the safety wouldn’t last long. It never does. The darkness always finds a way in, just like it has now.

“Nameless.”

-9-

3 Years

30 Weeks

0 Days

Jack tries to convince me he’ll do everything he can to block Nameless from contacting me again. But I know it won’t work. Jack’s good, but Nameless is much, much better. He always has been.

If Nameless can get access to a video in a federal vault, then he can get to me. If he knows about the video, he knows about Jack, probably through Wren. Not that Wren would ever tell him purposefully. Maybe he let it slip. Or maybe Nameless just tracked me all the way here, and somehow found out about Jack through the school’s computers. People talked about our war on the beat-up old Macs in the computer lab, I’m sure. Or maybe –

My stomach sinks, and the wonderful crème brulee taste goes sour in my mouth.

Maybe Nameless has had my email hacked all along, and he read my emails to Kayla about Jack.

“Wipe your old hard drive, just in case,” Jack says. “Get a new email address, and change the passwords on everything.”

“He’ll just break in again.”

“He won’t,” Jack says sternly. “He won’t. I won’t let that happen.”

“He’s been watching me this whole time,” I laugh. “I was so stupid. I thought I got away from him for good.”

“You will. You can. You just can’t give up. Work with me, okay? We’ll fix this together.”

“It’s no good,” I roll over. “He’s gonna torment me for my entire life. He’s always gonna be here, just like this stupid – this stupid f**king scar –”

I wrap it in the sheet so I don’t have to look at it. Jack walks over and unwraps it, pulling it to his lips.

“Listen to me, Isis. He won’t be with you forever. Someday, you’ll force him to leave, and he will, and you’ll be happier for it. The memories won’t go away, but they’ll become less clear as you make more.”

I flinch. His eyes don’t leave mine.

“I want to help you make more, if that’s alright with you.”

“What about…Sophia?”

“She’ll always be a part of my life, and I’ll always support her. But I know now who I want. The truth is here, right now, staring me in the face and sitting on a hotel bed, wearing my shirt and looking ridiculously cute.”

My face heats like a brushfire. Jack stands.

“Let’s get some sleep. We can worry uselessly tomorrow.”

I nod. He turns out the light and takes a spare blanket from the closet, draping it over the couch and laying on it. I snuggle under the blankets and try not to feel guilty. I can’t fall asleep at all. It’s a repeat of what happened at Avery’s house, but this time, I’m not drunk, and I’m not as scared. It’s just the darkness, ebbing away at me. Nameless feels like he’s everywhere. And I’d give anything, do anything, to chase him away and feel safe again.

“It’s cold,” I say. I hear Jack roll over.

“Do you want another blanket?”

“No, um.” I swallow. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, second only to my first-grade spelling bee in which I spelled ‘fabulous’ wrong, and third to when I had my first period ever and bled through my pants and on the metal foldout chair during band class and had to attach the chair to my bottom as I walked to the bathroom so no one would see the damage. I gained a whole new respect for crabs and their walking style. Shit’s straight difficult.

“Can you –” I try to raise my voice, but it cracks. “Can you – please – I’m usually not this bad at talking,” I laugh. “This is so stupid. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

I roll over and pull the blankets over my head so he won’t hear me whispering curses at myself. But then I feel a weight on the other side of the bed, and my lungs rapidly decide they want to burst. Jack’s voice is close.

“This?”

I pull the blankets off my head and nod, too furiously. Too eagerly. Jack laughs, low and soft. With my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I see him roll over and face away from me, pulling the blanket over him. His legs are just a few feet to the left, his back even closer. I’m shaking, but I pray to whatever god is listening that he can’t feel that through the bed. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea; that I’m afraid, and then leave. I am afraid - a deep-down, rock-solid fear burned into me by Nameless - but I’m not scared. I’m not shallowly breathing or panicky or jumping at every little thing. And that makes all the difference. It’s not chaotic fear – it’s orderly, and I know the causes for it. I can control it.

I reach out, slowly, and put my hand on his back. I feel his muscles tense under my fingers. When he doesn’t say anything, or move, I lean in and press my weight against him. He’s warm, warmer than a blanket. There’s a long pause as our breathing moves in and out of each other’s rhythm. And then finally, he speaks.

“You’re the most confusing girl I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah.” I smile. “Not sorry.”

“Good.”

***

The sun barges in and sits its butt on my eyes and the world is ending and I’m blind and everything is over. And then I roll over and see Jack’s face on the pillow and then everything is really over. Permanently. Because my universe explodes.

I make small screeching noises under my breath as I try to remember how I got here, in the hotel room. It all floods back at once and I’m more than a little mad at myself for giving in and staying here without a fight. Jack cracks one sleepy blue eye open. He runs his fingers through my hair idly as he groans.

“Who gave you permission to be conscious before six, and how can I end them?”

“Why are you touching me?” I whisper. “Is it really that fun? Because most people say it feels squishy and gross.”