Chapter One
The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong. 'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep. "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming." Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light. "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?" He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division." "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes. "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month." Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?" "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls." Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible. "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?" Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you." "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know... "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..." Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?" "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him." Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved. "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others." Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever. "Tell me what I need to do." Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams." Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere." The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass. "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real. "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again." The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long. "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it." Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping. "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers." "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing. "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls." "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes. "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours." Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another. "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating." The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter. "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen." Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement. "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself." As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp. Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control." "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?" Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke. "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?" Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?" "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul." As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own. The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere." The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass. "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real. "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again." The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long. "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it." Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping. "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers." "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing. "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls." "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes. "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours." Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another. "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating." The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter. "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen." Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement. "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself." As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp. Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control." "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?" Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke. "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?" Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?" "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul." As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own. The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Three
They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown. "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery." The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt. "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?" Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?" "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world." Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly... They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps. "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look." Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles. "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered. As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams. "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?" Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls." The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David." The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away." "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft." The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work." Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons. "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!" Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought. With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector. "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..." "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears." For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp. The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David. What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air. "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing." The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then... They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival. "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you." Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne." Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins." As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.
Chapter Four
Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world. She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records. A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.' The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes. "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look." The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces." "He's attacking multiple targets at once?" "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond." Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?" "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty. "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..." "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger." She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory. "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago." She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight. "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..." A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently. "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly... She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare. "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power." The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map. "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne. "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time." "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..." "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?" "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..." "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?" Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others." As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had. The true game was about to begin.
Rachel (1)
Rachel
Apa yang akan Anda lakukan jika Anda menemukan mayat? Menelepon polisi? Memeriksa denyut nadi? Menandai orang yang lewat untuk meminta pertolongan, menangis tapi bertanggung jawab, menelan udara? Anda mungkin membayangkan diri Anda dengan selimut di bahu Anda, menggendong secangkir teh manis panas, membantu memberikan pernyataan kepada petugas berseragam. Diwawancarai di koran lokal beberapa waktu kemudian. Sungguh kejutan yang mengerikan. Keluarga mereka yang malang.
Anda mungkin tidak akan melakukan apa yang saya lakukan, pada pagi yang dingin dan cerah itu ketika saya muncul dari pepohonan ke tempat terbuka, Brandy sudah mulai tegang dan merengek-rengek di tali penuntunnya - anjing tahu, mereka selalu tahu. Ketika saya melihatnya, awalnya saya pikir seseorang telah menjatuhkan mantelnya saat berlari pagi. Kemudian saya melihat tangan putih itu, berputar ke atas di antara daun-daun mati, jari-jarinya melengkung ke arah telapak tangan, cincin kawin berkilauan di jari keempat.
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Dan itulah yang saya lakukan, Brandy berteriak di belakang saya saat saya menarik tali penuntunnya. Saya berbelok keluar dari tempat terbuka dan berlari kembali menyusuri jalan setapak dan keluar dari hutan dan menyeberangi jalur hijau dan menaiki jalan setapak di taman menuju pondok saya, di mana saya meraba-raba kuncinya, membuka dan menutup pintu, dan menjatuhkan tali penuntunnya dengan tangan yang gemetar. Kemudian saya merebahkan diri di sofa, bahkan tanpa melepas sepatu bot berjalan saya. Yang paling saya lupakan adalah betapa sunyinya sebuah TKP. Tidak ada nafas kecuali nafasmu. Angin sepoi-sepoi yang mengaduk-aduk rambut dan pakaian yang tak bernyawa. Kekosongan mata yang berkaca-kaca dan terbuka dari mata yang mati. Hampir damai, kematian yang kejam, sebelum mereka datang dengan sepatu bot berat dan selotip dan kamera. Sebelum menjadi sebuah cerita, di luar sana di dunia untuk dibaca orang. Sebelum itu menjadi sesuatu yang terjadi pada Anda.
Tapi tidak, itu tidak nyata, itu tidak terjadi. Saya tidak melihatnya. Tidak ada apa-apa di sana. Tetap saja saya tidak menelepon polisi atau memberitahu siapa pun, apalagi kembali untuk memeriksa apakah mereka masih hidup - saya tidak ingin memikirkan semua itu. Bahkan, saya tidak melakukan apa-apa sama sekali. Ini mungkin tampak gila bagi Anda, tidak bertanggung jawab, tidak dapat dipertahankan. Tetapi Anda tidak tahu apa yang akan Anda lakukan, jika itu bukan mayat pertama yang Anda temukan.
Ironisnya, saya sebenarnya bahagia tepat sebelum saya menemukannya. Mungkin lebih bahagia daripada yang saya rasakan selama dua puluh tahun. Saya sedang berjalan di bagian favorit saya di hutan, bau kayu manis dari daun-daun di bawah kaki memberitahu saya bahwa musim gugur sedang dalam perjalanan, dengan janji-janjinya akan api unggun dan jumper yang memaafkan. Saya menuntun Brandy, napas kecilnya yang tersengal-sengal adalah satu-satunya suara, ketegangan yang konstan pada kerah yang diharapkan dari seekor anjing beagle. Dia sudah mencium sesuatu, mungkin, tapi saya tidak mengetahuinya saat itu. Itu adalah salah satu waktu terbaik saya hari itu, hanya dia dan saya, cara percaya dia akan datang ke tumit ketika saya panggil, meskipun sifatnya yang suka mencari-cari. Suara berlari-lari samar dari cakarnya di samping sepatu bot saya.
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Mobil itu pergi ke suatu tempat, bukan? Ketika saya memikirkan hal itu, saya akan merasakan getaran yang menyenangkan di dalam perut saya, diikuti oleh ledakan kekhawatiran. Hal-hal yang tidak ideal, tentu saja - dan aku akan memikirkan Anna di sini, aku yakin. Dia telah bermain di pikiranku sejak pertemuan kami seminggu sebelumnya. Dia tidak seharusnya tahu tentang Alex dan aku - terlalu cepat setelah perpisahan mereka, dan kemungkinan akan mengeruhkan air dengan perceraian, dia merasa. Tapi entah bagaimana dia telah mengetahuinya, dan mengkonfrontasiku di kota. Dia tidak ingin Alex bersamaku, dan mengancam untuk menjaga rumah dan melarang Alex bertemu dengan anaknya jika Alex tidak mengakhirinya, kata Alex.
Kadang-kadang hal itu membuat saya frustrasi - pria pertama yang pernah saya rasakan seperti ini, dan dia secara teknis masih menikah, terlibat dalam perpisahan yang sengit. Tapi apa yang sempurna di usia kami? Yang saya tahu adalah saya akhirnya merasakan sesuatu yang belum pernah saya rasakan sebelumnya. Hasrat sejati, gairah sejati yang memusingkan. Perutku berbalik ketika dia tersenyum padaku, ketika dia menggulung lengan kemeja untuk menunjukkan lengan bawahnya yang kecokelatan. Aku menimbun momen-momen kecil dari hari-hariku untuk diceritakan kepadanya, hal-hal lucu yang dilakukan anjing-anjingnya atau perkataan Marilyn, dan aku ingin mendengar segala sesuatu tentang harinya juga. Apa yang dia makan, apa yang dia tonton di TV, pohon mana yang dia tebang di tempat kerja dan mana yang aman. Bagian mana dari Lakes yang ia kunjungi saat bekerja, berpiknik di sisi tarn atau di pantai berbatu, mungkin. Setelah bertahun-tahun khawatir jika ada sesuatu yang salah denganku, karena aku selalu kehilangan minat begitu cepat dalam hubungan, memutar mataku saat seorang pria menceritakan detail-detail membosankan dalam hidupnya, akhirnya aku menemukannya. Alex. Aku bahkan membiarkan diriku membuat rencana - mungkin kami akan mendapatkan tempat bersama, dengan sebuah kamar untuk anaknya, Sam, untuk ditinggali. Sam akan mencintai Brandy. Anna akan menetap pada akhirnya, bertemu dengan orang lain. Kami akan bahagia.
Melihat kembali saat itu, aku berharap aku bisa mengguncang akal sehat wanita berjas merah dengan anjing yang sedang menuntunnya, menghirup aroma segar setelah hujan di hutan. Katakan padanya bahwa dia seharusnya tahu bahwa dia tidak boleh lengah. Dia seharusnya menyadari bahwa Anda tidak bisa membuat rencana. Karena Anda tidak pernah tahu kapan dunia kecil yang aman yang telah Anda susun dengan hati-hati akan hancur berantakan seperti rumah kartu. Dan kemudian saya melihatnya di dedaunan, pakaian, tangan putih, dan begitulah. Hidup saya seperti yang saya tahu sudah berakhir.
Rachel (2)
Saya tahu kedengarannya aneh, apa yang saya lakukan. Alih-alih menelepon polisi, saya pulang ke rumah, memberi makan Brandy, merapikan dapur, membuat bubur untuk sarapan saya, memakannya di bangku di taman belakang kecil saya, menikmati sinar matahari terakhir di bulan Oktober. Beberapa jam berlalu. Saya membersihkan debu, mengepel lantai, meskipun itu bukan hari yang biasa saya lakukan untuk bersih-bersih. Saya menjaga tubuh saya tetap bergerak dan pikiran saya benar-benar kosong, seperti yang telah saya pelajari di masa lalu. Orang-orang melakukan hal-hal aneh pada saat-saat seperti ini. Rutinitas Anda membuat Anda tetap berjalan seperti kereta api di atas rel, bahkan ketika mesinnya rusak. Semua sama, saya yakin itu akan datang, ketukan di pintu. Saya tidak menyalakan radio seperti biasanya, karena saya tahu suatu saat saya akan mendengar kata-kata mayat ditemukan di hutan.
Seharusnya saya tidak melarikan diri, saya tahu. Hal-hal mungkin tidak akan menjadi begitu buruk bagi saya jika saya bersikap normal. Tapi itu akan membutuhkan otak saya untuk menerimanya, untuk menerima bahwa saya sekali lagi telah menjadi orang yang menemukan mayat. Pepatah anjing pejalan kaki, selalu yang pertama di tempat kejadian. Sepertinya saya memiliki bakat untuk itu.
Saat itu sekitar pukul sebelas ketika bel pintu akhirnya berbunyi. Aku mengambil waktuku. Membilas piringku di wastafel, merapikan rambutku di cermin kecil yang kutemukan di toko British Heart Foundation. Memasukkan kakiku ke dalam sepatu balet, jari-jari kakiku menemukan kesan mereka sendiri di kulitnya. Di luar, sosok-sosok berpakaian hitam, dengungan radio. Polisi. Setidaknya lebih lembut di negara ini. Tidak ada senjata. Bel berbunyi lagi. Aku membuka pintu.
MerPezka cfu^kJupZ ésvoNpTaYnr tenDtamngT haql i,téu). gD*uCaf orang pÉetDugas, sezo(rzayng( cpjriaT *danA seor,a$ng wa^niTta, k!eTdudanayaap jtiUdOak llebFish dari ÉtigaC pul.uhw hgarié. d'RHafcheÉlJ CaclvdwKePllF?
'Ya?' Jantungku berdegup kencang di dadaku, tetapi aku berusaha menjaga suaraku tetap stabil.
'Kami mengerti Anda mengajak anjing Anda berjalan-jalan di hutan tadi? Dari balik bahu mereka, saya bisa melihat bahwa kerumunan kecil telah berkumpul di dekat tepi pepohonan. Saya mengenali beberapa tetangga saya dari pondok-pondok terdekat. Saya tahu untuk tidak berbohong - seseorang pasti akan melihat saya, ini adalah kota kecil, dan saya membawa Brandy di jalan yang sama setiap pagi, kami berdua adalah makhluk kebiasaan.
'Ya, ya, saya lakukan hampir setiap hari. Apakah ada yang salah?
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'Saya tidak melihat apa-apa,' kataku. Mereka tidak bisa membuktikan bahwa saya menemukannya - saya belum bisa memikirkannya sebagai manusia - dan terlalu sulit untuk menjelaskan mengapa saya melihatnya tetapi melarikan diri. Orang normal tidak melakukan itu.
Bodohnya saya, berbohong begitu awal. Seharusnya saya tidak mengatakan apa-apa, setidaknya sampai mereka benar-benar menangkap saya. Segera cari pengacara, perhatikan setiap kata-kataku. Aku dari semua orang, aku seharusnya tahu itu. Tapi aku tidak ingin terlihat bersalah. Saya pikir saya bisa bermain bodoh. Bodoh, bodoh. Kedua petugas itu saling bertukar pandang. Pria itu - tidak lebih dari seorang anak laki-laki, di mataku - berkata, 'Baiklah. Jika kita bisa masuk, mudah-mudahan kita bisa menjernihkan beberapa hal.
'Baiklah, baiklah. Saat aku berdiri kembali untuk membiarkan mereka masuk, Brandy datang mendayung untuk menyelidiki, dan aku berpikir tentang apa yang mungkin terjadi padanya jika mereka membawaku pergi. Map darurat ada di laci bawah mejaku yang terkunci, menjelaskan apa yang harus dilakukan dengan rumah dan Brandy dan barang-barangku, siapa yang harus dihubungi. Kuncinya ada di dalam vas di atas perapian. Jika yang terburuk terjadi, aku akan memberitahu seseorang di mana menemukannya - Marilyn, kemungkinan besar. Itu selalu menjadi risiko, menyimpan folder itu di rumah, dengan informasi yang terkandung di dalamnya, tapi aku tidak tahan memikirkan tidak ada yang mengetahui kebenarannya, tidak ada seorang pun di luar yang berjuang untukku. Kami belum sampai ke sana. Ini hanyalah pertanyaan. Aku membelai Brandy dan dengan lembut menggiringnya kembali ke dapur - dia merengek kecil, seolah-olah dia tahu ada sesuatu yang terjadi. Aku menutup pintu, merasa bersalah atas keterkejutannya. Kemudian aku dengan patuh mengikuti petugas ke sofa, duduk di sudut kanan mereka di kursi berlengan, tangan diletakkan dengan ringan di atas lututku.
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'Ya'. Secara hukum, itu benar.
'Dan apa yang kau lakukan, Rachel? PC Price, yang memiliki bintik-bintik di sepanjang garis kerah bajunya. Terakhir kali, para petugas polisi itu kelihatannya sudah bertahun-tahun lebih tua dariku. Waktu telah berlalu.
'Saya bekerja di tempat penampungan anjing di luar kota. Bukan untuk dibayar, tetapi mereka tidak perlu tahu itu. "Saya sudah bekerja di sana sekitar sepuluh tahun.
"DaBn PseTbceluCm iYtzu?
'Um - saya lahir di London. Pindah-pindah selama beberapa tahun, lalu di sini.
'Anda punya keluarga di daerah itu?'
'Tidak. Hanya saya dan ibu dan dia sudah meninggal beberapa tahun yang lalu. Jenna yang malang. Tidak pernah banyak ibu bagi saya, tetapi semua sama fakta kematiannya bisa menangkap saya tanpa sadar pada saat-saat seperti ini, sebuah pukulan kecil ke ulu hati.
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'Um - aku berangkat sekitar pukul tujuh lewat seperempat, saat itulah Brandy mulai gelisah, dan kami pergi ke rute normal kami. Hanya sebentar saja, saya membawanya nanti lebih lama lagi.
"Brandy adalah anjing beagle? PC Price, melirik ke arah dapur.
'Ya.
'MRereqkSaM pler(luI banuyXaSkk &berzjcalvan kawki? Da)n Fm'eFróeSkaj memilikiw indra hpecnci&ubmBaCn iylang fbtaik?y
'Mereka akan mengikuti hidung mereka ke mana saja.' Saat saya mengatakannya, saya teringat tarikan pada tali penuntun, rengekan kecilnya saat kami memasuki tempat terbuka. Itu adalah jalan yang biasa kami lalui, jadi saya tidak memikirkannya.
'Jadi dia akan mencium aroma yang aneh - seperti, katakanlah, mayat?'
Itu dia.
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Tidak ada konfirmasi. 'Dia pasti mencium bau seperti itu, ya?' PC Chevening. Saya terus lupa nama mereka dan harus melihat lencana mereka. Saya menyadari tangan saya tergenggam erat, dan berusaha mengendurkannya.
Rachel (3)
'Mungkin. Dia memang sering berlari mengejar bau, semua anjing beagle memang begitu, tetapi saya tetap menuntunnya.
'Jadi Anda tidak melihat apa-apa?
Saya pura-pura berpikir. 'Tidak ada yang bisa saya ingat.
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Saksi? Audrey yang berdarah, saya yakin.
'Aku - butuh toilet. Lupa pergi sebelum kami pergi. Tidak ada yang bisa membantahnya juga. 'Kenapa kau di sini - hanya karena aku berada di hutan? Banyak orang pergi ke hutan.
Saya mendengar suara saya bergetar gugup saat saya mengatakannya. Saya melihat mereka saling bertukar pandang, dan berbagai skenario melintas di benak saya. Seseorang telah melihat saya di tempat terbuka. Mungkin bahkan ada gambar saya yang mendekatinya dan berlari, tersandung keluar - atau lebih buruk lagi, rekaman video. Orang-orang bisa merekam sesuatu di ponsel mereka saat ini. Mungkin saya telah menyentuhnya dalam keterkejutan saya dan tidak mengingatnya, meninggalkan sidik jari atau rambut saya atau beberapa jejak lainnya. Bagaimanapun, saya bisa tahu dari cara mereka menatap saya: entah bagaimana, mereka tahu saya telah menemukan mayat itu. Dan bahwa saya telah berbohong tentang hal itu.
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Aku tidak mengerti untuk sesaat, tersesat dalam imajinasi terburukku. 'Hanya itu saja?
'Untuk saat ini. Terima kasih.
Mereka pergi. Mereka punya kecurigaan, mungkin, tapi jelas mereka belum bisa membuktikan apa-apa. Lagi pula, menemukan mayat dan tidak melaporkannya bukanlah suatu kejahatan - bukan?
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'Rachel! Apa yang sebenarnya terjadi? Saya tahu kamu berjalan-jalan di hutan, jadi saya pikir saya akan melihat apakah kamu baik-baik saja. Apakah kau ditangkap? Apakah itu yang akan dipikirkan orang? Aku bisa melihat Audrey mengintip di antara tirai-tirai mahal, dan dia tiba-tiba menarik diri saat aku menangkap matanya.
'Tidak, saya tidak ditangkap. Hanya ... . mereka bertanya apakah saya melihat sesuatu di hutan hari ini. Ada . . . . ada mayat, rupanya. Saya mengatakan yang terakhir dengan berbisik.
'Aku tahu. Kau tidak . . . . menemukannya, kan?
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'Saya - saya melihat sesuatu, tetapi saya tidak benar-benar - saya tidak pernah menyentuhnya atau apa pun. Saya hanya berlari, saya panik.
Marilyn menarik diri, menggigit bibirnya karena tertekan. Aku mencoba untuk tidak menonton drama kriminal di TV karena sering kali detailnya sangat salah, tapi beberapa kali Marilyn mengundangku untuk malam hari dan dia adalah penggemar beratnya. Dia mungkin akan sangat senang menemukan mayat.
'Tapi Rachel! Mengapa kau tidak menelepon polisi? Atau setidaknya memberitahu seseorang?
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Dia menatap saya dengan seksama. 'Anda tidak melihat siapa itu?' Dia merendahkan suaranya dan saya menyadari bahwa saya telah berbicara terlalu keras, bahwa Audrey mungkin telah mendengar saya mengakui kebohongan saya. Aku menarik Marilyn ke dalam dan menutup pintu, dengan keengganan yang aneh. Meskipun ini adalah rumahku sendiri, dan aku tidak dikekang atau dikunci, kepanikan lama muncul dalam diriku, membanjiri darahku. Keluar dari sini. Lari.
'Tidak - saya tidak tahu apakah itu seorang pria atau wanita, bahkan.
'Oh.'
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'Rachel,' kata Marilyn ragu-ragu. 'Mereka bilang itu Anna. Anna telah dibunuh. Mereka sudah memberitahu Alex. Dia - dia meneleponku. Suaranya pecah, Marilyn yang tabah, yang tidak pernah menangis ketika kami harus menurunkan seekor anjing, yang jarang menunjukkan emosi sama sekali.
Anna. Dan saya telah menemukannya, dan melarikan diri. Saya tahu bahwa saya berada dalam masalah yang lebih buruk dari yang saya duga.
Casey (1)
Casey
AGUSTUS 2000
David. Abby. Carson. Madison. Keluarga Safran. Saya mengulang-ulangnya di kepala saya saat pesawat menukik ke LAX. Saya belum pernah naik pesawat sebelumnya, dan telah berlebihan dalam menikmati bar gratis. Sekarang aku mulutku kering dan mual. Gugup juga. Pertama kalinya saya meninggalkan Inggris dan saya datang sejauh ini sendirian, untuk bekerja sebagai pengasuh anak bagi seorang produser Hollywood dan istrinya, seorang aktris. Madison berusia lima tahun. Bayinya masih beberapa bulan atau lebih. Saya tidak terlalu suka anak-anak, tapi Jenna mengatakan itu adalah langkah yang cerdas, mendapatkan kontrak enam bulan ini. Dialah yang mendorong saya untuk belajar perkembangan anak di perguruan tinggi bentuk keenam, di samping drama. Dia bahkan membawa pulang formulir lamaran untuk agen pengasuh anak Amerika, Little Helpers.
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Mereka menginginkan seorang pengasuh Inggris karena sang ibu, Abby, memiliki keluarga dari London. Mungkin mereka membayangkan kereta bayi yang besar dan jadwal yang ketat, bukan aku yang mengenakan atasan rompi dengan salinan majalah More! Tapi tetap saja. Salah satu dari sekian banyak hal yang Jenna ajarkan kepada saya adalah bahwa orang membeli apa yang Anda jual kepada mereka, jika Anda menjualnya dengan cukup keras. Mereka orang Amerika. Mereka tidak akan tahu bahwa versi ke-Inggris-an saya adalah kelas pekerja, dari Watford way.
Jenna tidak ikut ke bandara dengan saya, karena dia mengklaim Tube membuatnya terlalu gugup. Dia melihat saya di stasiun di Watford, mengisap salah satu kebiasaannya. 'Nah, kalau begitu kau pergi.'
'Ya.' Saya menunggu kata-kata nasihat, dari seorang ibu yang melambaikan tangan pada anak tunggalnya selama enam bulan di negara asing.
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'Aku akan mencoba.'
'Kemarilah, kalau begitu. Dia menarikku ke arahnya dalam pelukan yang kasar, dan aku menghirup bau rokok dan Charlie Silver. Ibuku. Aku membawa koperku melintasi London sendirian, menemukan jalan ke terminal sendirian. Itu selalu hanya aku dan Jenna - dia tidak jelas tentang siapa ayahku - dan kadang-kadang terasa lebih seperti hanya aku.
Sebuah pengumuman terdengar di atas suara udara di pesawat yang tak henti-hentinya menghisap. Vokal-vokal Amerika yang tidak familiar. Kami akan mendarat. Bagaimana jika tidak ada seorang pun di sana yang menemui saya? Bagaimana jika mereka tidak mengijinkan saya masuk ke negara ini? Ada cerita-cerita horor di nanny geosites yang saya lihat di perpustakaan, orang-orang yang ditolak di bea cukai karena dokumen yang salah. Aku meraba-raba barang-barangku di sekelilingku - lip balm Blistex, hoody merah muda, salinan majalah More! dan Bliss, sampulnya terpampang kontestan dari Big Brother, acara TV baru yang tiba-tiba membuat teman-temanku kecanduan. Saya tidak akan bisa mengikuti acara itu di Amerika, dan rasa jarak menyapu saya, membuat saya tiba-tiba merasa sepi. Tetapi tidak ada jalan untuk kembali sekarang. Saya menyimpan Nokia baru saya, yang bahkan saya tidak yakin akan berfungsi di Amerika. Saya menyikat remah-remah dari diri saya dan mengedipkan mata saya yang bergetah. Saya sudah sampai di sini.
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Dia menatapku. 'José. Sopir, tukang kebun.
'Oh - eh, OK. Gracias.' Saya telah belajar sedikit bahasa Spanyol dalam perjalanan ke Magaluf bersama teman-teman kuliah, tetapi dia tidak menanggapi. Dia mengambil koper saya dan saya mulai khawatir saya harus memberinya tip. Kami pergi keluar - sebuah semburan panas bensin yang singkat dan ganas - dan masuk ke dalam mobil, sebuah mobil pengangkut orang yang begitu dingin di dalam sehingga saya melihat bulu kuduk merinding di lengan saya.
'Air di belakang kursi,' katanya, sambil menyalakan mesin.
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'Casey? Apakah kau sudah tidur?
Saya duduk di tempat tidur, untuk sesaat tidak yakin di mana saya berada, di mana di dunia, di mana dalam waktu, semuanya. Seorang wanita berdiri di atasku, mengenakan pakaian olahraga Lycra yang ketat, menggendong seorang bayi. Abby dan Carson. Bos saya dan salah satu anak yang seharusnya saya rawat.
'Oh - maaf. Jet lag. Saya melihat jam perjalanan di meja samping tempat tidur saya; saat itu pukul empat sore. Tengah malam di rumah. Udara di dalam kamar terasa dingin dan pengap, meskipun saya tahu di luar akan sangat terik.
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Saya telah berada di Amerika selama dua hari sekarang, dan hal itu memukul saya dengan keras. Saya belum pernah merasakan kelelahan seperti itu, ditambah lagi bayi itu tidur di kamar saya dan dia sepertinya terbangun setiap jam di malam hari. 'Maaf'.
Casey (2)
Abby berbalik, kuncir kudanya mengiris udara seperti sabit. 'Saya ada yoga. Dan Madison perlu mempelajari dialognya untuk pagi hari. Oh, dan David akan pulang jam tujuh untuk makan malam.
Saya tidak menyadari bahwa bagian dari pekerjaan saya adalah memasak makan malam - saya hampir tidak bisa memanaskan Super Noodles. Tapi rupanya memang demikian, selain merawat bayi dan Madison, menjaga kebersihan rumah pada hari-hari 'pembantu' tidak datang, menjalankan tugas ke seluruh kota - yang belum pernah saya lakukan karena saya belum pernah mengemudi di sebelah kanan sebelumnya - dan apa pun yang Abby inginkan dari saya, yang mana itu banyak sekali. Abby sendiri jarang berada di rumah, dan ketika dia berada di rumah, dia sering tertidur, yang membuatnya semakin tidak adil. Aku tahu dari mengintip di kamar mandinya bahwa tidurnya biasanya diinduksi secara kimiawi. Saya belum pernah melihat sesuatu dari LA kecuali supermarket yang Abby telah mengantar kami ke sana, dan tentu saja tidak ada selebriti. Brad dan Jen menatapku dari sampul majalah yang kubawa, seolah-olah mengejekku dengan kemewahan mereka, begitu dekat namun tak tersentuh. Carson sudah mengunyah beberapa halaman dari salah satunya.
Aku menyeret diriku ke atas, saat langkah kaki Abby berderak menuruni koridor kayu dan tangga dan pintu depan dibanting, diikuti oleh suara mobil, bunyi gerbang listrik di kejauhan. Dia sudah pergi. Carson terbaring di sana menatapku, ekspresi khawatir di wajahnya saat dia menggerogoti satu kepalan tangannya. Dia berusia enam bulan, dan saya dengan panik mencoba mengingat apa yang telah saya pelajari tentang bayi di perguruan tinggi, berharap saya lebih memperhatikannya. Dia belum bisa bicara dan tidak akan berjalan untuk sementara waktu, jadi paling tidak jika saya meletakkannya dia tetap berada di tempat yang sama. Tidak seperti Madison.
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'Mengapa kamu di tempat tidur? Dia menatapku, seperti yang dilakukan ibunya.
'Aku lelah, Madison. Dari perjalanan pesawat besarku.
'Ibu bilang kamu harus bangun sekarang.'
'AkIu ÉtaOhu, akup &ankZan^ baXnguOn.n
'Dan kamu harus membuat makan malam, kata Ibu. Pada waktunya untuk Ayah.
'Aku tahu itu, Madison. Aku bangun dari tempat tidur, dengan susah payah, dan ketika aku mengganggu Carson dia mulai menangis. Suara tangisan itu seakan-akan menghancurkan tengkorakku. Apakah semua bayi mengeluarkan suara seperti itu? Jenis yang tidak bisa berada di ruangan yang sama terlalu lama, atau Anda akan menjadi gila?
Dia meninggikan suaranya. 'Carson menangis. Kau membuatnya takut.
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