Page 43 of In Her Memory

Her father’s expression softened with understanding. “For the same reason you ran away the first time. Protection. Your fears became overwhelming.”

“My fears?”

“You were sixteen,” Dad said, “when those voices first came to you. But you had no idea what they were, no one to talk to about them. So, you started believing that you were dangerous. You thought that leaving was the only way to keep your family safe.”

“I remember feeling like I was losing my mind.”

“And when you found your way home again,” her father continued, “when you started to rebuild your life with Jenna and your mother, the fear came back. You were still hearing those voices. What if you really had brought danger to their door?”

“Yes, I was so afraid,” Piper said.

“At that same time, your sister solved an important case,” Dad explained. “She told you all about it. And somewhere deep in your mind, you made a connection—the killer your sister brought to justice had created a protector, a companion that kept her separate from others. You felt a need for the same solution.”

Piper turned to look at Loyalynne, seeing the doll-woman with new eyes. The perfect, porcelain features that had seemed so comforting now appeared cold, artificial. The painted smile hides something hard and unforgiving beneath.

“You’re saying I created her? That she’s not real?”

“Not in the way you think,” her father said. “She’s a projection—your mind’s way of expressing your fear of hurting those you love.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, tears blurring her vision. “I left everyone. I forgot who I was.”

“You were trying to protect us,” he said. “But we all want you back home.”

Loyalynne’s form flickered like a candle in a draft. “Don’t listen to him, Emma,” she pleaded, but her voice had lost its melodic quality, sounding thin and desperate. “We’re friends. I’ve been helping you.”

“No,” Piper said, the truth settling into her bones. “I imagined you too well. You’ve been isolating me. Cutting me off from my family again.”

“They’re not your family!” Loyalynne insisted, but her outline was blurring, the edges of her form dispersing like smoke. “You’re Emma Kirby! You’ve always been Emma! You know that’s safer…”

“My name is Piper Graves,” she interrupted, each word stronger than the last. “I’m Margaret and Greg Graves’ daughter. Jenna’s twin sister.”

With each declaration, Loyalynne’s form grew more transparent, the illusion unraveling. The doll-woman reached toward Piper, her movements jerky now, less fluid.

“Please,” Loyalynne begged, “don’t send me away. I don’t want to go back to the darkness.”

Unexpected compassion welled in Piper’s chest. Whatever this apparition was—creation of her mind, psychic echo, or something else entirely—there was a genuine desperation in those fading blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Piper said softly. “But you’re not real. Not in this world. And now I need to be who I truly am.”

With those words, Loyalynne's form dissolved completely, dispersing into the morning light like mist touched by the sun. For a moment, Piper felt a pang of loss—the phantom had been her constant companion for days, however misguided her influence.

“She’s gone,” Piper whispered, turning back to her father.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But the voices—your voices—they’re still with you. They are your special talent, just like your sister has her own unusual skills. Some things you’ve seen have already given Jenna insights into cases. And that’s important, because right now Jenna needs your help.”

“Jenna? What’s wrong?”

“There’s a ghost that’s not really a ghost.” Dad’s form was beginning to fade at the edges, his time in this realm growing short. “She’s in danger.”

“I don’t understand,” Piper said, reaching toward him instinctively.

“The voices will explain,” he said, his figure growing more transparent. “Listen to them, Piper. Trust them. They were never your enemy—they just overwhelmed you because you didn’t know how to manage them.”

“Dad, don’t go,” she pleaded, her hands passing through his fading form.

“I’m always watching over you girls,” he said as he faded from view. “Tell your sister and your mother I love them.”

And then he was gone, leaving Piper alone in the dusty room with sunlight now streaming fully through the windows. The abrupt return to solitude was jarring, but she felt different—clearer, more whole than she could remember being before. She could feel the fractured pieces of her identity finally coming together.