Jason had built his power from locked rooms and missing pages. I had spent years fearing what might happen if I opened them.
But fear had kept me in the dark.
And the dark had never protected me.
“Play it,” I said.
The examiner clicked the file.
The video opened in grainy black and white.
A hospital lobby appeared. Nurses moved through the frame. A security guard stood near the entrance. Then the automatic doors slid open.
Jason entered first, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his face pale.
Behind him came Evelyn.
And between them, seated in a wheelchair, was me.
My head was bowed. One arm was cradled against my body. Even through the poor quality footage, I looked barely conscious.
Jason leaned down near my ear, saying something the camera could not capture.
