I’ve started to regret taking the bus down instead of going home. It’s only 8:30, but my eyelids are becoming too heavy to bear. Running around and learning that my sister, my friend, and myself are suspects in this awful thing happening are really taking their toll on me. Today’s been one of the longest days of my life, seriously. I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I don’t find Rhea. I know what the detective said, but the sooner I start looking, the better my chances are at bringing her home and finding some answers. I’ll be honest, I did feel reassured hearing Kazami promise that she’d find her. All I knew about that detective before meeting her was that she never leaves a trail cold. She wasn’t bluffing at all, she really does always find the lost, and having her on my side (er, sort of) is really something amazing. But still, I have to be careful. If I’m not, this weird power could show itself off in front of her, and then boom. It’s over. I’d definitely be seen as the cause. There are too many ties to it, and there’d be no other explanation for my ability other than it being exactly related to what’s going on here. I have her trust, apparently. At least, it felt like I did.

Simon is sick. Is he? The idea makes me hazy, and… just sad, I guess. I’m still thinking about the way he left my place before I went to Kazami’s office. He looked… bereft. Yes, that was it. Bereft. I had to find that word in the dictionary after I heard it in a Styx track. Now that the thought’s re-entered my head, I can’t get it out. Is he sick? No, he seemed totally lucid. What could make her think he’s sick? And what’s he doing wandering around groups of dead people? Why didn’t we die? I don’t blame the detective at all; I’d be suspicious of me too. It’s not our fault, I know, but even I’m questioning if I had something to do with it now. Simon, I think, is sensitive. I hope he doesn’t take any of the blame for it out of a guilty conscience, however much of his conscience is left if he’s unwell.

There isn’t much Harbor City has to offer, so that’s probably why there’s so much gang activity around here. Nothing to do? Do some crime! Or something. That’s exciting, right? I’m all for found families, I think that’s the best, but there’s gotta be other- better- ways around that. I’m trying to tell myself that’s why I’m so nervous- the gangs- but there’s some weird feeling I can’t shake. Burning and tingling, but it’s dormant and rests in my chest. I wanna rip the feeling out and throw it in the street, but I know I can’t do that, so I’ll be its home for now. Looking around, though… it’s a total ghost town. Figures. No, maybe this is just how the neighborhood is. It’s fine. There’s really nothing to-

“Where is he!?”

I suck in a scream, whipping around and feeling that tingling sensation follow down my arms. Shit, no, no, no, no, no! I cross my arms tightly, hoping to God that my sleeves keep my veins in. I have no idea who this person is, but his heart is pounding. Even though it’s beating so hard, I can’t believe how… distant it sounds.

“What do you want?” I don’t think I’m always this mean, but 1) he startled me, 2) I don’t want him to get too close or I’m worried my veins will hurt him somehow or otherwise freak him the hell out, 3) I’m in the middle of something and I had a really long day and I’m tired and… I wish I was as nice as I used to think I was. Maybe I just never was.

The guy is exasperated, totally out of breath and looks… off. He doesn’t look hurt. His heart is so loud, I can feel it in my head, and it’s becoming painful. Suddenly, I feel an aching in my chest. No, more than an aching; something’s gnawing at me. A cry- no, a scream.

I draw in a breath, a gasp so sharp that it cuts through my throat right down the middle, stopping exactly between my clavicles and pulling them apart from each other. My own body is a casket, Harbor City is a grave and instead of being slowly lowered in like I’m supposed to be, something is dragging me. Are these my feelings? The hands of everyone who’s ever died, they want me with them. They’ll drag me down with their teeth if they have to.

No, I can’t. I can’t go. Rhea. I have to find her. I have to pull away from their fingers, their teeth. These can’t be my feelings, this only started a second ago when he came up. How did I hear all of that? It was so loud, like I was there.

“William…” I have no idea where that name came from, but it’s his, and I know that. No, I don’t know how I know that. I heard it somewhere in his pulse just now. “William, listen to me. I…” What am I doing? “I…” Trying to snap him out of it? I want to, trust me, I really do, but what am I supposed to do? “I…” I don’t have the ability to talk someone out of the state he’s in. Nowhere near. “I…” I swallow hard. “I can’t… help you. I’m sorry.”

William looks past me. I’m sure he’s disappointed at what I’ve just said, and I feel awful. Worse. I know it’s not my pain, but it still hurts. I don’t know what to do. I’m so dizzy.

My eyes water as something hooks through and is pulling the right corner of my mouth back. I scream a little, it hurts so bad. I taste blood. The thing spins me around a half circle and…

“Hey, Ever.”

My heart beats hard. I didn’t get a good look at who it was before I’m kicked hard to the ground, but I didn’t need to. I know exactly whose voice that dark shade of gravelly red is, but… why? What the hell is he doing here!? Still coughing from being kicked in the stomach, I shoot a glare at him. I hate that he remembered my name after all. “Took the bait like a fish, y’did.”

“Joseph…” I mutter through clenched teeth.

“Yup.” He grabs William by his wrist, and I don’t understand why William didn’t take the time to run until I remember that he’s sick and probably suffering so much he doesn’t even know what’s going on around him. At least, I really hope he doesn’t as he’s thrown to the ground, but I know he at least feels the pain, judging by the troubling groan he makes. I swear I see dust come up as he lands, but I can’t focus on anything but the fear in his eyes as one of Joseph’s boots steadies itself on his head. I sit up faster than I’ve ever had to in my life, thinking for a moment to go and shove him over at least, but I’m too selfish. I remember what he did to that woman at Hidden Trove, and if I want to find my sister, I can’t be the next person he does that to.

“So, ‘ow’s she cuttin’?”

  “What?” Right as I jerk my head back in confusion, I feel the spiralling tightening, making its way into a singularity. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad, and I know it’s only going to get worse.

“Oh, sorry. How are you?” The prick feigned an American accent before cackling.

What’s it fucking look like? I wanna ask, but I’m busy trying to steady my breathing. I know it’s not the time, but I can’t exactly help anybody in this state. I keep sinking into the grave, more and more hands and teeth pulling me down.

“G-get away from him!” I shout miserably, unable to help the stutter. I feel stupid, pathetic, helpless. “What are you doing!?” The pain in my chest- William’s pain in my chest- is spiralling out of control. The memories encoded in his pulse, his current situation, me telling him that there’s nothing I can do… Nothing I can do is right. Joseph turns his attention to me for a moment, rolling William’s head back and forth underneath his heel. My head starts aching. “Let him go,” I try to say as steadily as possible. I really don’t know what Joseph’s thinking right now, but his heart is calm-ish, I think. I don’t know. It’s overlapping with William’s pulse right now.

“I brought ‘im here for a reason, Ever.” Stop using my name. “ ‘E’s got a purpose. I wanna show you somethin’.”

“What purpose? What are you talking about?”

“You feel like shit because he does.”

I stare at him. I don’t even know where to start. “How… do you know that?”

Joseph shrugs, his casual smile shifting into something with more contempt. I can see it in his eyes. “Lucky guess?” Liar. “Might be my fault, actually.”

William is silent, and I can see him shaking from here. Joseph starts applying more pressure. Oh, god. Don’t. Please, don’t. My head. William’s. What’s he doing?

“You’re lookin’ for your sister?”

I don’t say anything.

“She ain’t ‘ere.”

“You don’t know that.” I had to force the words out. “Then- then where is she?” My voice is straining, now.

“Cripes, Ever. You really don’t know?”

I’m not being dragged anymore. I’m falling.

“I’ll be honest, I can’t tell you nothin’ about her. Honest. Let’s talk about somethin’ else then, eh?” Joseph hums while he looks into the air and thinks while William’s eyes beg me for help. Even if I did know what to do, I can’t move. I’m scared. I’m useless. “You know that Tears for Fears track?” What? I don’t really take him for a fan. “Its bassline moves around a bunch, it’s cool, busy, and it follows the singer here and there. ‘Ow’s it go?”

More pressure. My fucking skull. William’s eyes are red. William’s eyes. I know the song, of course I do. Everyone does. He whistles the keyboard intro, just two bars of it. I recognise it as soon as he starts- in a lower key- chanting its chorus, and I feel the swirling come to its singularity. Note for transposed note, word for word. I know it’s a clock, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m so incapacitated by the exploding in my chest that I’m horrified that I might not be able to ever move again. By the second half of the chorus, he’s replaced the word “over” with “under,” and I would only hate him for it if the casket had any holes for me to breathe out of. I’m suffocating and trapped and the pressure is making William scream because he knows his eyes will be the first to go and this psycho is pleading not to get his heart thrown out and everyone’s hearts are racing and the final syllable of the chorus comes and-