Sleep didn't come that night.
Grace sat on the edge of her bed in the dim light of dawn, the folder from Hollow Street open beside her. The words she'd read replayed like a haunting refrain: Twin subject displays inverse reaction.
Inverse. Opposite.
If she forgot, Mia remembered.
The thought chilled her.
Ethan had fallen asleep in the armchair by the window, still wearing the same jacket from the night before. The storm had passed hours ago, but Grace could still hear the wind pressing against the walls — a steady, ghostly whisper that almost sounded like a voice.
Mia.
Grace rubbed her temples, fragments of memory flickering like old film reels — flashes of red light, broken glass, and a scream that had no face.
Her phone vibrated beside her. A new message.
Unknown Number: Do you really want to remember how she died?
Her breath caught. She stared at the screen, her heart racing.
How she died.
Daniel had said almost.
But this message said otherwise.
Grace stood, clutching her robe tighter. The city outside was just beginning to wake — a blur of rain-slicked streets and gray light. She turned to Ethan and gently shook him awake.
"Hey," she whispered. "I got another message."
He blinked, rubbing his eyes. "From the same number?"
She nodded. "They said Mia's dead."
Ethan straightened immediately. "Let me see."
She handed him the phone. He frowned at the message. "Could be a scare tactic. Someone wants you to stop digging."
"Or it's the truth," Grace murmured.
Ethan looked at her — really looked. "Do you think Mia's dead?"
"I don't know what to think anymore," she whispered. "She vanished years ago. Mark told me she moved abroad. But I never saw proof. No calls, no photos, nothing. Just… silence."
He handed back the phone. "Then we find proof. Daniel said something about the night it all ended. Maybe those files aren't the whole story."
Grace nodded slowly, determination tightening her chest. "There was another name in the folder — Dr. E. Hall. If she wrote those reports, maybe she knows what really happened."
Ethan checked his phone. "There's a Dr. Elara Hall listed in old medical directories. Retired five years ago. Address matches the outskirts of town — near the old coast road."
Grace grabbed her coat. "Then that's where we're going."
---
The drive felt endless. Mist clung to the trees, turning the world into a gray blur. Grace watched the raindrops chase each other down the window, her thoughts spiraling deeper with every passing mile.
What had really happened that night?
Why did her memories end in screams and darkness?
When they reached the cottage, the sea wind howled against the walls. The nameplate beside the door read Dr. Elara Hall, Ph.D.
Grace hesitated before knocking. The door opened before her hand touched it. A woman stood there — white-haired, eyes sharp as glass, wearing a wool shawl and an expression that said she'd been expecting them.
"Grace Williams," she said softly. "You shouldn't have come."
Grace's throat tightened. "You know who I am."
Dr. Hall nodded. "I know everything they made you forget."
The room smelled faintly of mint and old paper. Grace followed the doctor to a seat by the fire, while Ethan lingered near the doorway, quietly assessing.
"Tell me what happened," Grace said, voice shaking. "All of it."
Dr. Hall sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "It began sixteen years ago. You and your sister were inseparable, but something broke between you — something I was called in to repair. Your parents believed one of you needed help. They didn't know how deep it ran."
Grace frowned. "What are you saying?"
"You came to me after an incident," Dr. Hall continued. "A fire in the storage shed behind your family home. Your sister was inside."
Grace's breath hitched.
"She nearly died," Dr. Hall said. "You pulled her out, but she was unconscious. The trauma of it shattered something in both of you. When Mia woke, she couldn't stop talking about the fire — about how it wasn't an accident."
Grace shook her head. "No… I don't remember a fire."
"You weren't meant to," Dr. Hall said. "The guilt consumed you. You blamed yourself. And as the years passed, you started to forget. That's when Daniel stepped in. He offered to fund the sessions to help you 'heal.' What he really wanted was to bury the memory permanently."
Grace felt tears prick her eyes. "So Mia knew? All these years?"
"Yes," Dr. Hall said quietly. "And she used that truth to control him — and later, your husband. Mark never intended to hurt you. But he was part of their lie."
Grace's world tilted. "And now?"
Dr. Hall looked at her with something like pity. "Now, they're afraid you'll remember what really caused that fire."
Grace's voice trembled. "What did?"
The doctor hesitated. "You need to see it for yourself. I can help unlock what's left, but once it starts, there's no stopping it. Are you sure you want that, Grace?"
Grace stared into the fire — the same orange glow that haunted the edges of her dreams. Somewhere deep in her chest, something old and buried began to stir.
"Yes," she whispered. "I want the truth."
Dr. Hall nodded once. "Then come back tomorrow at noon. Bring no one else."
Grace rose, her heart pounding. As she turned to leave, Dr. Hall added quietly, "One more thing. Mia isn't dead."
Grace froze.
"She's closer than you think," Dr. Hall said. "And she's waiting for you to remember what you did."