Chapter 7

Silence descended, thick and suffocating.

Ivana stood frozen, her voice a broken whisper.

"Mom… what are you saying?"

"Dad… how could he be the killer?"

Tears streamed down Ivana's face, disbelief warring with agony.

Mrs. Priscilla walked toward me, her eyes reddening at the sight of my frail, battered state.

Then she bowed deeply, her voice heavy with sorrow.

"Selena! I'm so sorry!"

My eyes stayed closed. The pain from the machine made it impossible to move.

Ivana stumbled forward, grabbing her mother's shoulders. "Tell me this isn't real. Tell me the machine made a mistake."

"The machine shows memories as they happened," the lead tech said quietly. "There is no error."

Ivana's legs gave way. She collapsed onto the stage floor, her designer dress pooling around her like a funeral shroud.

"I did this to you," she whispered, staring at me. "I dragged you here. I put you in that chair. I let them beat you and curse you—"

"You didn't know," I managed through the blood in my mouth.

"That's not an excuse!" She was screaming now, clawing at her own arms. "You tried to tell me! You begged me to stop! And I called you a liar!"

The crowd was no longer angry. They were devastated.

The live chat had shifted completely.

[She protected Ivana for TEN YEARS and this is how she was repaid?]

[The real monster was already dead. Selena suffered for nothing.]

[This is the most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen.]

Lucy's father, Adam, walked slowly up the stage steps.

Everyone tensed. The last time he'd been near me, he'd tried to strangle me.

He stood in front of the chair. Looked at the blood on my face, the needle marks in my scalp, the IV tubes dangling uselessly.

Then he knelt.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry, child."

He reached out and, with shaking hands, began to remove the helmet from my head.

The techs rushed forward. "Sir, you can't—the disconnection protocol—"

"Turn it off!" Adam roared. "Haven't you done enough? She's dying!"

The machine powered down with a low hum. The needles retracted. My body went limp.

Adam caught me before I hit the ground.

For ten years, this man had been my greatest enemy. He'd led the mobs. He'd burned my house. He'd stood by while they killed Bruno.

Now he held me like I was made of glass, whispering "I'm sorry" over and over.

"It's okay," I breathed. "You loved Lucy. I understood."

"You were a child," he choked. "You were just a child carrying a burden no adult should have to bear."

In the crowd, people were openly weeping.

Maya, Lucy's mother, had stopped clutching her doll. For the first time in ten years, clarity returned to her eyes.

She walked to the stage, knelt beside her husband, and looked at my face.

"You're the girl who used to braid Lucy's hair," she whispered.

"Yes."

"You loved her."

"More than anything."

Maya stroked my blood-matted hair with a gentleness that shattered what was left of my heart.

"Lucy asked you to keep the secret."

"Her last words to me."

Maya closed her eyes. "My daughter always tried to protect everyone else. Even when she was the one who needed saving."