* * *

Evie stood at the counter of her grandparents’ kitchen again as a teenager, her hands coated in flour with her grandmother humming quietly at her side. No flicker of sadness welled up within her like she had braced herself for when she took in her soft, wrinkled features and wire-framed glasses resting on the tip of her nose. But she felt warm. Content. Happy. 

She was in the memory, listening to the quiet chirping of birds drifting through the open window of the suburbs and her grandfather’s quiet snoring in the other room. That need to break free of that moment and rush in to see him didn’t happen, as if she were glued in place—trapped in her own, younger body forced to continue a task already done. It was already set. Everything continued on the way it actually had, and the memory version of her refused to yield to her will to change.

* * *

It disappeared as quickly as it came. Evie was back in the hotel, standing in front of Haven with a tear rolling down her face. She swiped it away, taking in a shaky breath while he pulled his glove back on. He mimed dusting flour off his hands, and her breath caught. “You—How did you—”

“He pulled a memory,” Tarryn said. “If he really wanted to, he could change it, add, or remove a piece from it. He could also remove it altogether, but it would leave a pretty nasty gap. Probably something close to a drunken black-out, which I’ve seen in a couple of people before. That’s usually what they chalk it up to anyway.”

She shuffled backward, shaking her head. The backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed, and she buckled, her bag tumbling back to the floor as she collapsed. “I-I’m not—I can’t—” Her head dropped into her hands. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Things like this simply didn’t exist. There was no way she could turn back time or else she would’ve been able to fix so much from happening, right? “I’m still back in my apartment, passed out on my futon. I’d like to wake up now.”

Footsteps sounded, and Evie felt the air shift around her. Something pinched her arm, and her head jerked up to find Tarryn crouched in front of her. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’s real. I get it, it sucks, but people out there want to hurt you, whether you know what’s going on or not. We’re here to protect you. I promise we’ll sort through this whole mess after we get you to the safehouse in the morning.”

“You said that my aunt knows about all of this?” Her voice wobbled through her whisper. “Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“Maybe to protect you? It’s a possibility since if you don’t know what’s happening, she would assume that you’re not a threat to anyone, right?” She stood. “Get some sleep. This is going to take some time to sink in.” She glanced over her shoulder at Haven. “If… you’re uncomfortable with us in the room, we can stand watch in the hall, okay?”

Evie stared at a spot on the soft, gray carpeting for a minute before she spoke. “Okay.”

So they left, Haven vanishing into the hall before Tarryn paused to look back. Then the door clicked shut behind her, bringing the small flash of a memory of her shutting the door to her grandpa’s office with it—an office filled with clocks taking over the walls and littering every part of his mini-workshop’s cabinets. An office where she’d held an envelope in her hands, a sticky note slapped on it with a now-forgotten sentiment she tried to conjure up within her racing thoughts.

Evie scrubbed at her face and let herself fall back on the bed, taking deep breaths while she combed through her memories like she might uncover one that was once stolen from her ignorant existence.