I fell into a long dream.

I dreamed of the day my parents adopted me. Rain poured from the sky.


Rivulets of water streaked down the car window. I pressed my face against the glass, watching unfamiliar streets blur past. I didn't look back—couldn't bear to.

The downpour lasted all day, only ceasing deep in the night.

I slept fitfully. When a rock shattered my window, I jolted awake.


Cool, damp air rushed in. I peered out to see Mathew standing below.

He stared up, unblinking, his dark eyes empty of emotion.


I ran downstairs and found him drenched, face pale as death.

"How did you find me?"

He didn't answer. "Are you abandoning me, Crystal?"

I reached for his hand to deny it, but the dream shifted, and he slipped away.

Now we were back in elementary school. After class, kidnappers tried to drag me into their van. Mathew grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go.

The trafficker grabbed Mathew, snarling: "Didn't want a boy anyway, but since you're so eager, I'll break your legs and put you on the street to beg!"

Mathew bit the man's hand—hard enough to tear flesh. The man released him with a howl. Mathew grabbed my hand and we ran, but someone struck him from behind with a brick. He crumpled.

Blood filled my vision. I reached for him, but the dream shifted again.

My birthday.

Mathew wiped cake from my face and helped me to my room. Through the haze of alcohol, I felt something warm and soft press against my lips.

I struggled to open my eyes. When I finally forced them open, I met burning eyes—

"It's too late, Crystal."

"No... don't!"

The dream shattered. I jerked awake to find Mathew's exhausted face hovering over mine.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes. The mark from my slap still reddened his cheek.

"Finally awake?"

I blinked, disoriented, taking in unfamiliar surroundings. Then I noticed the silver handcuffs on my wrist.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

"You've really lost your mind," I said, raising my shackled wrist with a metallic clink.

Mathew neither confirmed nor denied it.

He pulled up a chair and sat, taking a plate from the bedside table. "Your hands are tied. Let me feed you."

I turned away from the offered food. "Where am I? When will you let me go?"

"A house I bought," he said, lips quirking into a half-smile. "You don't know this, but I came back several times during those four years. You wouldn't see me, so I had to watch from afar..."

He'd come back?

He'd been here all along.

No wonder I sometimes felt watched.

It wasn't paranoia after all.

"If you were back, why not tell me? Tell our parents?"

Mathew laughed bitterly.

"So they could send me even further away from you?"

"Mathew!"

I clenched my fist, my voice hoarse:

"They raised us for fifteen years. Don't talk about them like that..."

"You're wrong," Mathew held a glass of water to my lips. "They're your parents, not mine. I only ever wanted to be with you..."