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“The first thing that made me feel safe here was Brawley. Nobody had ever simply let me exist in a space before.” I toss the card back down on the table. “I like to eat potatoes when no one is watching—any kind, but mashed is best.”

I laugh again because I know Vero must be watching, and I bet I’ll get a lot of potatoes in the future.

“I brought many nervous habits from my old life, all ones I do not plan to continue. But the sound of the water, and the rustling of the cornfield are noises that now calm me.”

I stare at the last card and smile. “Vero gave me a place to belong. He has no idea what that means to me, and I will be forever grateful.”

But when I answer them all, nothing happens, so I look around and find a second weird table. This one is set with a set of cat ears, a small paper boat, and a broken clock stuck at the time of 2:17. I smile at the last one, as that makes sense. One night I came downstairs and found Vero awake, and we sat and talked until I was tired again. There is also a pressed flower and a pencil stub with teeth marks. I pick up the cat-ear headband and the paper boat. Tucked under the boat is a slip of paper, and when I unfold it, it reads:

You never have to navigate anything alone again.

Tears prickle my eyes, and the door clicks open. I walk through it and it closes behind me.

This room is the opposite of Vero’s, with nothing on the walls except one sentence, written in what I recognize as Brawley’s handwriting.

You already know how to do this.

The far wall has a series of mechanisms—locks, bolts, but no instructions.

I walk over and stare at it for a while. I know how to do what?

The first mechanism I overthink and get wrong twice, but on the third attempt I stop thinking and use my hands to feel for what I need to do. It’s a false panel, and I push at it as his voice enters my head.

“Stop pushing and find where it wants to move.”

I run my fingers along the edge until I find the point of least resistance and press. It opens, and I pull out a note.

Always trust yourself. You’ve got this, Double P.

The large door clicks open, and I keep moving forward.

The next room has to be Clay’s. It’s a security setup, with twelve monitors, a desk, a chair, and a locked cabinet. His name is also on a card with a note.

Find the one that is wrong.

I take a seat in the chair and look at all twelve feeds, searching for what he wants me to find. I take three minutes to see it on feed seven—a shadow at the edge of the frame. Someone standing just outside the shot.

I walk over to the locked cabinet and hit seven on the keypad. It opens, and inside there is another note.

The difference between being safe or in danger is knowing what you’re looking for.

There is also a key, which I take and unlock the door.

The last room by default is Ares, and the room is large and dark and practically empty. It holds just a chair, a mirror, and an overhead light. Nothing else.

I sit in the chair and stare at my reflection. The text is on the mirror’s surface, overlaying my face.

Why did you stay?

Then written below it:

Not what kept you. Not who asked you. Why did you?

I look at myself and really think about the question. Trust Ares to want to know my inner workings.

“If I’m being honest, I was tired of running. I’d been running from a lot of things for so long that stopping always seemed dangerous. But for the first time in so long, you all made me feel like the real version of myself and loved me for me.”

I stand and look at my reflection one last time. It’s the same face, the same person who first came to the island, but she is whole again.