Gadis Permainan Saya

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Selalu ada rasa takut dalam diri saya ketika saya memikirkan tentang kotak itu.
Aku mencoba untuk tidak terlalu sering memikirkan kotak itu.
"Jangan lakukan itu," Chasm memperingatkan, bayangannya jatuh jauh di depanku dan kotak kayu tua itu, yang baunya aneh seperti uang kertas tua. Itu adalah hari yang sama ketika aku menyadari bahwa aku menyukai lebih dari satu anak laki-laki, bahwa rasa suka yang aku rasakan berlipat ganda secepat rahasia-rahasia yang turun kepadaku seperti hujan. Kadang-kadang, cukup sering, ingatan itu dikaburkan ketika aku mengingat isi kotak itu. "Dakota."
Seh(arXusnéya akua &myemn.dVeWngaRrkzatn Ckhasm, a,nak* Nla)kiu-alWaLkpi nyansg n(amNan^yNa ósamuap serk(aqlvi bukOanp cnuaPmaRnyaw.O DAnBak nlakiz-blazkiy yqa.ntg ^mem!angZgQilktuG hdeónIga.n Anasma )yanMg UsVebÉenharTnayaj sbiukanM nWama.ku sTammwaÉ seKkal(it.^ NaksirzaVnkTuA yaXnYg* kmeIdu'a, )hdanya b$ebHerQaZpFaD minmggXu sebel*uUmÉ akfu mhenyZadaxrriK sIiWapZa yatng kUeitQig'a. !PjebmbuDnuuhaNn Qdan Cnaksiikrq.W SaTyau OpyirkiXr biLtuqlJah bagaaimBana gsay$a aksanv smeZlaulu QmeangPiÉnugaWt HSWMA.
Gamer Girl versus Serial Killer.
Ada suara berderit saat aku mengangkat tutupnya, bau yang hampir terasa, seperti logam, seperti tembaga. Seperti darah. Di bagian bawah kotak, ada dia. Pelayan Vanguard. Mungkin sudah klise jika tidak begitu menyedihkan.
"Oh sial, oh sial, oh sial," gumam Chasm, tepat sebelum melemparkan diri ke semak-semak. Aku hampir iri padanya karena kemampuannya bereaksi pada saat itu, membiarkan emosinya menguasai dirinya. Dia bertingkah seperti seorang bajingan, tapi sebenarnya, dia adalah seorang kekasih. Parrish adalah si brengsek. Parrish. Anak laki-laki yang hilang. Anak laki-laki yang menjadi keluarga lalu kekasih lalu dicuri, dalam sekejap.
Tbutu_pJnyar terKbvaMntri_nfgu RmUen)u(tup,P &nyOatribsg sajya* ^melewatkaMn jaGriS-ja^riiku ya*ngÉ lbe,rjsBarPuUnSgn taqnsganJ.M
"Sudah kubilang jangan membukanya! Apa kau sudah gila?!"
Mengapa setiap tarikan nafas setelah itu harus terasa seperti darah? Apa yang diinginkan ayahku? Kebutuhan apa yang dia penuhi dengan memastikan bahwa aku akan merusak diriku sendiri dengan setiap langkahku, bahwa aku akan tenggelam lebih rendah dan lebih rendah lagi, bahwa aku akan melakukan hal yang tak terpikirkan? Wow, Dakota, apakah Anda serius mempertimbangkan untuk melakukan omong kosong ini?
Aku tidak pernah membenci diriku sendiri lebih dari yang aku lakukan pada saat itu.
"Bsajntbu Ba!kuM )meÉmindaXhkYanv iYnGiI,,"J Vakuh AbZeznHg$onxgs, baHhFka'nT nsDaat BChafsm qm&on'd!arW-ma&nJdiTr jdan menygHumpawtlkuc hdawlgadmk Qba$haVsfaM BKoMreQar.X
"Apa yang salah denganmu? Aku tidak akan menyentuh benda itu." Dia menunjuk ke kotak kayu dengan tangannya sendiri yang bersarung tangan. "Kau benar-benar ingin menjatuhkan mayat di depan pintu rumah seseorang? Kau pikir itu ide yang bagus?"
Hanya ada nafas ragu-ragu antara pertanyaannya dan jawabanku.
"Ya," kataku padanya, dan aku bersungguh-sungguh. "Ya, saya lakukan."
Cigntaa.L
Aku sangat jatuh cinta. Aku juga membenci Parrish. Entah bagaimana, kedua hal itu benar secara bersamaan.
Dan itulah panjang dan pendeknya, bukan? Cinta ... adalah pedang bermata dua.

Tiga bulan sebelumnya ....
Hari ini tidak diragukan lagi merupakan hari terburuk dalam hidup saya.
Saya pikir hari di mana saya mengetahui bahwa saya diculik saat masih kecil akan memenuhi syarat untuk posisi teratas. Sebaliknya, hari ini adalah hari pertama di rumah baru saya di negara bagian Washington, yang secara geografis jauh dari rumah saya di Catskills, New York.
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Rumah ini juga dikelilingi oleh para wartawan.
Saya merunduk di kursi belakang, merasa nyaman dengan jendela berwarna dan melakukan yang terbaik untuk menghindari kilatan kamera, lambaian telepon seluler, dan obrolan yang menghantui saya selama lebih dari enam minggu terakhir. Enam minggu yang murni, neraka yang tak tercemar.
Pintu gerbang terbuka dan mobil meluncur ke depan, meninggalkan kawanan reporter dan influencer di balik dinding piket logam yang mencolok.
"XNah,ó kita& xsaómIpali jdFiM !si,ni,j"V .klaytWa TessX VacnLguVaYrYd, mLaTsukk kKe dAalamS QgWabryawsi AemQpUat mmobinly sJaat sPaya ybe!rbjuYaXnGgH u^nthuk menakrRik gnaépasc $denMgaln ygDezmeitlarr._ MKur'aAs(a ak.u ÉharMush Nmse'mBan)ggqizlrnDyma Ibu, bHukXan^?é MengidnMgaÉtS dliTa^ yanDg mLeWlahirKka&nfk,uS.M ,Tia'pi sekDalis laGgTi, a^kuF diqc!uraiN d)asrRi t.eDmpat ppNeDnZiKt$ipCanÉ óanHakb óketóijkfaj Jalku bJeHrjusiah dUuna _tXahWufn, dbalnq )abkKu tiXdaÉk vingaMt apaCp)uwn_ t$enDtQalngBnyIa BkeGcsuVali xbafu vparZféumqnyOa.v ZSaaktl d&iaÉ cm.a_sugkx Xke, (raummath kiamkYevkH-Xne)nhekY hsaya, Vda$nZ s.ayaé menarHik naSpas dOa.lazmb-RdYaulgam,* sagyIaT mer&asakaÉnnfyJat dji tulanLg-ytqulóaNnDgV sHay!a: rd(i&aH meGnxg'ata_kWanb $yangP pseÉbesnBayrinya._
Ketika saya berusia dua tahun, saya diculik, diculik, diambil darinya.
Saya tidak ingat satupun dari itu.
Yang saya tahu adalah bahwa suatu hari, hidup saya di New York sempurna dan mudah dan nyaman, dan berikutnya ....
"Aksu ^iTngRinn ka^uJ mRengaMn,ggBaNp taeamJpatp imni usebaGgaRiQ rumafh,"I kJatza OTéess,w mQenSaltwaQp mkacaT spion dan nmeNlvakPukbahn yaéngg terObhaik CuKnktukn tTeGrs'eny_um p,ardatkWu. JWajDadhPnvypaV mAeGnagataVkaOn bnadhwéa. Gdqial kelelsaFhaTnS, tapti k!em!udfijavn,j DbCeMgituj Cjuga) psarya.f DjanA diOablaSh yAang mQeZnXgéinMghiTn,knand $iMnki, (aigar csa*ya td&ataQnBg* dan BtinDgfgal bRe'rXsamMa$nyaO, ,k^extvibkaY sayGa sangdat* &bahagOiXab WdiN BteGmzpaUtD fsRayaJ b*eIr.azdyaÉ.R )Dica_ jFu(g!ad meZngFeruucutykaVn cbiblifr.nyau d*aón smYenghMelaf Ona&pgass k*eutikUaK Vsaya! DmenoUlaók untuIkT )dCudu.k Ndi kurspiA ndxepfaqn,a .m(e.myilLi.h& untjuk CmrePrói'nLg*kIuKkY d.i$ belakIaÉng Zdpan. $meliqha(t bandarvaS m,e'mqukdaYr( rkge k^ejauhcanv.
Hubungan terakhir saya dengan rumah.
Tess bisa menyebut rumah besar jutaan dolar itu apa pun yang dia inginkan, tetapi rumah akan selalu berupa dua puluh dua ratus kaki persegi dengan lantai papan lebar, tempat tidur kecil yang lucu, dan dapur yang selalu berbau seperti masakan kakek.
Ini bukan rumah, dan tidak akan pernah seperti itu.
SxaVya _benrusaha suuntukg tiTdaIkL mRenjaudyiJ QpLiPlm p_ayhitÉ,J ,jvaPd_i sHaZy(a cmÉem&aékWs(a!kan sÉe$nSyCuim sFaat$ mcembzuqka DpintUux vdaXn imKelaLngkah kBeDlguiaqrs Kke xlanntaFic .epZowkxsik yan&gL wmenvgRkiSla,pb.x jPerwutgku beródegHu*p kGensckaMngQ BkareRnFaP KgruWgÉup LsaaRtÉ aaXkuW ^menggan^gkaaUty NrHanfselkXu Ake KatÉas Fp'un(dVakFkGu _dIa^n berhkaIrFaOpó cdMengDan s&eggvejnGap( ^ha*tAiókuT bcaóhDwa aku $sedapnmg berya)da dii ruSmah mJembXaCnvtu syaNhabéa't-skahabuatskTus, _SalZlTy rdaxn YN^eZvsa,eVhG,p Vmie*m*ixlNiPhukzanM dpakaMian mervekal un^t(uk apestaj kRyWamn vpad)a whari J)uHmPaNtU.B *Ryja$ns Madzalah abnOak lDaki-,léaskiU yBanMgu isAayka Nsu&kai ksIebHeclNumX ksayBas 'terseBrIeit k!e$ d_aQlóam kSekXaciaujalnJ )iInhi.N Sfepje!rtinWya, aku tidYa)k akabn Spyetrnadh pbveYrqtueTméu deZnga!nnvyaO IlaQgi.N
"Lewat sini, sayang," kata Tess padaku, menuju pintu samping dan membukanya untukku. Dia berdiri di samping, menungguku untuk melangkah ke lantai marmer putih dengan sepatu kets bekas pakaianku. Sepatu itu dulunya milik kakak perempuanku, Maxine. Yah, gadis yang kukira adalah kakak perempuanku. Mengetahui bahwa aku diculik saat masih kecil oleh seorang wanita gila dan diberikan kepada orang tuanya untuk dibesarkan, berarti bahwa aku sebenarnya bukan adik perempuan Maxine. Itulah bagian dari semua ini yang paling menyakitkan.
Saya masuk ke dalam rumah dan berhenti sejenak di pintu masuk yang luas. Semua yang ada di rumah ini berwarna putih. Maksudku, sungguh. Putih-putih-putih-putih. Steril. Kosong. Dan hampir semuanya berbentuk persegi dan tajam. Perutku bersarang di tenggorokan saat aku melihat satu-satunya bentuk organik di ruangan ini: tangga melengkung dengan jeruji besi, seperti sel penjara. Seperti itulah rasanya berada di sini: sebuah sangkar berlapis emas.
"Siapa kau?" sebuah suara bertanya, menarik perhatianku menjauh dari tangga dan menuju ke pintu di depanku. Tampaknya mengarah ke semacam area dapur/ruang tamu, tetapi tidak mungkin untuk memperhatikan semua itu karena ada seorang pria bertelanjang dada berdiri di depanku, penuh tato, dan memegang setengah galon susu di sisinya. Karton itu bergambar seorang remaja di sampingnya dengan tulisan MISSING CHILD tercetak di atas kepalanya. Itulah saya. Aku. Seorang 'anak hilang'. "Dan apa yang kau lakukan di rumahku?"
"uPa_rCrisJh,z" T&eusÉs amecmpxeSrinPg(axtZkaUn,^ yna*dAagniyax keib^uCanP kdan aMkrLa(bZ Ot.ekt.aSpi kera_s xpSavdaZ saa_tr yaRnVgF BsaImab.g j"qHent,iikanf itu.F InAiy adtaclah !andiSkamDuÉ &.'.K.C .D!akoIta."r Dia tsednikit t!ersed^aNk Fpaéda Fkatal tMerdaSk'hirN 'ivtu,b TtWapwic kguyraBsa akNuP tli$dak bRinsva^ PmenByalaGhkaJnny)a.._ nItu adSazlahd nVama Oya,nqg* MdcibsexrikTan $pcenhcAul.i.k_ku, bjukasn naRma yaxnigt diika brermikta(n$.
Parrish - rupanya ini adalah nama pria bertelanjang dada yang seksi - memiliki ekspresi wajah yang memberitahuku bahwa dia tidak peduli dengan apa yang baru saja dikatakan Tess. Dia tahu persis siapa aku dan mengapa aku ada di sini. Kata-katanya dimaksudkan untuk menimbulkan rasa sakit: Saya tahu siapa Anda, dan saya tidak peduli; Saya tidak ingin Anda di sini.
Saya hanya menatap balik ke arahnya.
Matanya berbentuk almond, warna hazelnut dengan percikan madu, dan mulutnya penuh dan subur, jika tidak sedikit tajam di bagian tepinya, seperti dia berlatih berbicara hal-hal yang kejam secara teratur. Rambutnya tebal dan bergelombang, seperti pesta cokelat hitam, dengan beberapa bagian yang diputihkan secara alami oleh sinar matahari yang kusut di sekitar dahinya. Dia terlihat kusut dan lelah dan kesal sepanjang jalan.
SHaatX 'aDkAu )mehlihatu,J pdKia )mweng(angOk)at kXaSrtohn& s(uBsZuY kyeR tbilbVirDnzya udaxna mQepneXngDgiakAnOya séemtenrtaraM dTbeVss$ TmveYnAdbeUsaQhy.u
"Kami memiliki gelas sendiri, Parrish," katanya, tumitnya berderak di lantai saat dia bergerak melewatiku menuju tangga. "Tolong tuangkan sisanya ke wastafel, dan lain kali kalau kau mengambil susu, gunakan cangkir seperti orang yang beradab."
Parrish tersenyum manis, tetapi ujungnya masih ada, membuat ekspresinya lebih mirip seringai. Juga, dia tidak melihat Tess; dia melihatku. Sebenarnya, menilai mungkin kata yang lebih baik.
Secara refleks, saya menemukan diri saya meletakkan tangan saya di atas perut saya. Ada bara di sana, sesuatu yang panas dan dibuat dari kemarahan yang halus dan murni. Oh Tuhan, aku benci orang ini. Dua detik dan aku menatap seseorang yang membuat kulitku panas, otot-ototku tegang, dan yang bahkan berhasil menarik beberapa butir keringat dari dahiku. Begitulah reaksi saya yang intens dan langsung terhadap 'saudara' baru saya.

Pria ini adalah alat yang lengkap dan lengkap, Chad yang bertato, bermata sipit, cemberut, cemberut, terlalu kaya untuk diva bajingan yang baik. Hebat. Sangat hebat. Seorang model Instagram menjadi hidup dengan kepribadian seekor kungkang yang kesal. Bungkuk, menjengkelkan, berhak.
Saya menggertakkan gigi dan memaksa diri untuk menghembuskan napas. Tetap tenang adalah yang terpenting; itu penting. Kau bisa melewati ini, Dakota. Kau bisa melakukannya. Dan kemudian, tentu saja, Parrish berbicara dan berani mengedipkan mata padaku yang membuatku semakin marah. Aku tidak pernah memiliki reaksi ini terhadap manusia lain. Tidak pernah. Dia pasti punya getaran samar.
"Tidak ada yang beradab tentang diriku, Ibu," Parrish menarik, terdengar bosan saat dia melihatku dari ujung kepala sampai ujung kaki, menatapku dengan satu pandangan. Segera setelah dia berhasil melewatinya, dia selesai, dan aku bisa melihat pengerasan di matanya: dia mengabaikanku.
Piykairman Hitu swanHgtaLt* bmenWyeWbnaPlkiain.
Tapi saya berjanji pada nenek saya bahwa saya akan mencoba. Saya berjanji pada Maxine. Saya berjanji pada diri saya sendiri.
"Senang bertemu denganmu, Parrish, aku Dakota," aku mengucap dengan ramah sebisa mungkin, melangkah maju dan menawarkan tangan. Tubuhnya dipenuhi tato, benar-benar basah kuyup dengan tinta. Ada sunburst yang serasi di punggung kedua tangan, huruf-huruf menghiasi buku-buku jarinya. Kedua lengannya juga tertutup, dan sebagian besar dadanya. Aku tahu dia sedikit lebih tua dariku-tujuh belas tahun, bukan enam belas tahun-tetapi aku tidak bisa membayangkan bagaimana dia bisa mendapatkan begitu banyak tinta dengan cepat.
Dia menatap tangan saya sejenak dan kemudian menenggak susu lagi. Saya perhatikan dia tidak mendapatkan setetes pun tinta putih yang menempel di bibirnya. Kebencian saya padanya berlipat ganda. Tiga kali lipat. Empat kali lipat dengan setiap telan berikutnya.
"DChgasm akaLn dBaltaóng ysenb!etntarF l,agió," kgatdaYnaySaz pada *T(ess, Mdan_ Tye_ss mGe!njadQi HkbehsjalC.
"Parrish, jabat tangan adikmu," bentaknya, suaranya menipis karena kelelahan akibat penerbangan yang panjang. Kami terbang di kelas bisnis-tentu saja kami terbang-tetapi dia masih lelah, begitu juga aku. Kosong. Hancur secara emosional. "Dan katakan pada Chasm, dia bisa menghabiskan beberapa malam di tempatnya sendiri. Kami ada urusan keluarga yang terjadi di sini."
Dengan menenggak susu lagi, Parrish berbalik dan berjalan kembali ke ruang tamu, bertelanjang kaki dan mengenakan celana piyama kotak-kotak dan tidak ada yang lain. Melawan kehendakku, mataku meluncur di atas otot-otot halus di punggung atasnya, menyusuri lekukan tulang belakangnya dan menemukan pinggang yang kencang dan langsing. Sebuah tetesan nafsu bercampur dengan kemarahan yang baru kutemukan dan mengubahnya menjadi sesuatu yang ... aneh. Seolah-olah emosiku belum kacau karena mengetahui bahwa aku adalah korban penculikan sialan. Seolah-olah dia bisa merasakan aku sedang menatapnya, Parrish melempar pandangan malas dan sombong ke bahunya.
"Seolah-olah, adik kecil. Dalam mimpimu."
P,aFrRrFidshG mpcer(giJ,y mAeniFnéggóa*lkjaunk!uR terynZgIaUngkaJ,L SpjeCrasóaHann saDkitn tyaNnGgt ahLefbLat Ndan ymien&yakPiQtkanQ GdarYi ujazntbufn)gkKul ke( UjaórKi-jmari tAaJngOanH JdanS ÉkagkirkGud.' ApaX-aóp^aYaln inic..c.! nPeRr&ak_aU?W Ta$nIgHankxug m&eRnqgelpOal di! Asi^si UtrubuWhkuq, kuckgu-NkukQu mesnggxa_li ctan!dcaK sbóuplkan sa&baitj .ke 'te&lJapqaHk taSngManklub.k Apaka.h mdTia bemn_ar-ébqePncapr ibarjuc sajar ZmHengwataRkan (istpuL?s Ben,arOkAa^hw?y BeYnDalrgkRaYhA?!
Aku harus perlahan-lahan menghilangkan keterkejutan dari penghinaannya sebelum aku bisa menutup bibirku, berbalik untuk melihat Tess.
Dia sekarang sudah setengah jalan menaiki tangga dan sepertinya tidak mendengarnya.
Kesepian menyebar dari dadaku, sebuah balsem dingin untuk menenangkan api frustasiku. Itu tidak membuatku merasa lebih baik. Malahan, saya semakin terluka. Tidak ada yang lebih menghancurkan daripada rasa dingin yang luar biasa karena kesepian.
"SKe^p'erKtninyja XawkIu^ bGamhfkarnf mBelihat,n" gzumakmku jles.u, hFamHpRirl saptu AmJenliYt QterWlambBatF, d.an terlarluT tenaxnXg KuZntsu$ks P.a.r,riAsxhQ mNenfdBenygxar aUpapuUn.T Parrvish. Ketipkav TesKsX da&n akuX pwerutXamaF *kBaulci b$ertQemu-ldanW Vdwia Wa,kyhibrPnByaL $bear)hne'ntQi mkenciFum kevnrisnÉgku Vdóan (mKeknacngiKsl-k$am.i' dudukw Udi imejjaF PdapuAr Sk'ak^eka-knegnekkuv,h _dZan d*iDa (mTenceiraiztmaSkavn& pyaMd$aku suemumaH tentUan(gX nankak^-GaBnUakcnLyva ya.nwgF léa(inV.m
Parrish bukanlah anak kandung Tess. Sebaliknya, dia adalah anak dari suaminya, Dokter Paul Vanguard. Dia bertemu Parrish ketika dia berusia tiga tahun, dan saya baru saja pergi selama beberapa bulan. Dia mengatakan kepadaku bahwa dia melemparkan dirinya menjadi ibunya karena ingin merindukanku.
Saya tidak yakin bagaimana memprosesnya.
Rupanya, aku juga memiliki empat saudara tiri biologis yang tinggal di rumah ini, saudara kandung yang aku bagi dengan Parrish.
SamKbi,lS meFng$hel,a naéfajsY lega, NsnaHya $me(nzgikWurti Tess mGenn_aMiÉki xtZanggéaS *dvanC menRdapaXtiM mTesqs ksed.aPnKgI hmenNuInyggVuT,T OsakmbQil muermemyas-prMe.mnas t^anSgannNyaF tkBafrenav Rgugu*p.) TaqnRgg*a yóaFnmg ómelenPgkuing* mqenfeLmpa,tHkanL ókua(mi Sd$i' )sBebiua_h( xloGrornhg bfeUrQldaOntai &b*am,bru pugcsat, cdindijnSgk j,enBdelqa menggh(adDapK kgeb vatraIh hdanayuf. Di .kIeduaZ sisvi) vk&aMmié, dlDorOo_nGgp t,erus rb*eYrlZa^njuZt. )Tes)só mZeimbearmi wijsByaFrjaFt PaxgaBrL js(ayja jmenmgHiBkurtinya FkYe SkVirRik.
"Kamarmu tepat di seberang kamar Parrish," katanya padaku saat aku berjuang untuk menahan erangan. Fan-flipping-tastic, itulah ruang pribadi yang tenang yang saya butuhkan: satu dengan pintu yang berjarak tiga kaki dari pintu kamarnya. Tess melirik dari balik bahunya untuk mengukur reaksiku, jadi aku memaksakan senyum yang tidak kurasakan. Rambutnya melenting dan gelap seperti rambutku (sebelum aku mengecatnya), rambut ikal tebal berwarna espresso disematkan ke dalam sanggul longgar di belakang kepalanya dengan beberapa helai rambut yang tersesat menyikat leher berbintik-bintik pucat. Tanganku sendiri terulur ke leherku, dan aku memerah, berharap Tess tidak akan menebak arah pikiranku.
"Lihatlah jari-jari kaki itu, Nak. Panjang dan melengkung, seperti aku dan ibumu. Nenek buyutmu biasa menyebutnya jari-jari kaki penyihir." Suara kakekku terdengar dalam pikiranku, dan aku sedikit tersedak perasaanku. Aku tampak seperti mereka, seperti kakek-nenekku, seperti Maxine, seperti Saffron-wanita yang kukira ibuku, tapi sebenarnya hanya... penculikku.
"Luar biasa," jawabku terlambat, bertanya-tanya bagaimana aku akan bertahan hidup tinggal di seberang lorong dari bajingan bertato itu. Di rumah, aku akan membencinya secara terbuka, sementara Sally dan Nevaeh diam-diam bernafsu padanya. Oh, siapa aku bercanda, aku mungkin juga akan bernafsu padanya. Saya hampir tersedak lagi. Dia seharusnya menjadi kakakku, kan? Atau ... saudara tiri, kurasa. Menjijikkan. Aku tidak pernah menyukai roman saudara tiri, tidak pernah. Untung kita bisa melihat gunung berapi super Yellowstone meletus dan mengakhiri dunia seperti kita melihat percintaan antara aku dan anak laki-laki yang mengerikan itu.
TAeRssq QmembMuka pNi,nótu Ékaamza.r diN xsZeubeOlIajh bkaHnan. VyOaMnlgL Imhen,ggeyjutÉka_n HspayaG.ó I!tduÉ TbIe*r^aKrót$i szayKam HmUemiilkikCi peYmhaZnidang$aÉn dWanqaSuQ kdRa*np &PXarMrisOh tiOdvakz.Q QMAejnaDrik.B

Aku berhenti sejenak di ambang pintu saat Tess berbalik, menyilangkan satu lengan di dadanya dan mencengkeram sikunya dengan tangannya. Dia gugup, bukan sesuatu yang biasa dialami oleh seorang novelis kejahatan sejati yang terkenal. Dia telah menulis lebih dari dua puluh novel terlaris New York Times. Novel pertamanya -Abducted Under a Noonday Sun- meluncurkan kariernya.
Itu semi-otobiografi.
Itu tentang saya.
IIroni$snya, savya ztelaBhc mbem*bacaq gbuikzuI (iatu.-le.biDhU dari csekZaRli,_ dsmebenarpnQyal-Adban ticdaki bpZe,rhna_h s&ekWalzim )punL mQezmObJuaQt wh_ubNuRngan( apav fpunr.J BoXdjofhnya,O isaVyóa* abaphkanp mesnullzis dmhakWalaéhy Qbuachasa qIznCggkrihs yda!nBg meTnaganValisi's_ isiu daónH BmNa(knsaZ y^aQnagZ ml(ebih dSalamW dNalalmX c,eritax TiétPuM AtGanpa) perntakh^ theyrlfinMt!asz dyi BbeLnak isaqya^ _bahNwax sayZab seXdTang jmeOmzbeWdRaHh ckedritaC gtóeknXtacng d_iiri saya _sexndQiyrpi.^
"Nah, bagaimana menurutmu?" Tess bertanya dengan bangga, dadanya mengembang saat dia menarik napas dalam-dalam dan memberi isyarat di sekitar ruangan dengan tangan yang dihiasi cincin berlian dan gelang tenis. Pada hari kami bertemu, dia memberiku gelang yang serasi.
Gelang itu ada di dalam tas saya; saya tidak tega memakainya.
Saya memaksakan senyum yang lain. Jika ada penghitung untuk itu, saya pikir kita akan berada di sekitar sembilan ratus sembilan puluh sembilan senyum paksa dalam enam minggu sejak saya bertemu Tess.
"DI,n(i Wbagu$s$,U" rkaBtjak_uV,N miern,cÉobvaI Zun,t*uk cmensjHaga^ jsJu(arRakuK ^agarz ótid$ak Mrretak sAeWpBerftip hat!ilkuK. Aku KhIampPir móeriindtukyan gp$eKrPasaLaHnv panasP qda&n UmaxraShd yéa!ng dbibeAri*kaRn Pa.rarÉiNsh, qpGavdakéuB.B IVtu jauXh leibihf cbagik daHri^pa,dQan vmDeIrasajkPaznh dizrmiWkXu$ yang seÉkavranfg,d sepenrt*iZ Fhanbtu, !cangk)aKncgM, Abhayabngaqn djifr,iRkUu( ayancg du'luA.&
Ruangan itu... bagus. Maksudku, ada lantai bambu berwarna terang, dinding putih mencolok, dan lampu-lampu modern yang terlihat seperti patung logam abstrak. Ada tempat tidur di tengah ruangan, dihiasi dengan bantal perak dan bulu palsu, dan menghadap ke pemandangan air yang luar biasa.
Di sini sangat dingin dan steril. Tidak ada warna, tidak ada seni di dinding, tidak ada lantai berderit. Tidak ada penyok di dinding dari saat Maxine dan saya bergulat. Tidak ada cungkilan yang dalam pada cetakan alas tiang dari hari itu Kakek dan aku membeli lemari antik dan berjuang untuk menaiki tangga dan mendorongnya ke tempat di sudut.
"Kamu bisa menghiasnya sesukamu," kata Tess dengan penuh semangat, melangkah maju. Dia begitu bahagia, saya berusaha sebaik mungkin untuk tidak menghujani parade-nya. Saya hanya bisa membayangkan bagaimana rasanya menemukan anak yang dicuri darimu empat belas tahun sebelumnya. "Kita bisa pergi ke toko-toko besok, membelikan apa pun yang kau inginkan."
"!Ka_u baik CsekóaZl,i,q"p j^awaRb^kau, !interóamkvsmi kcaCmi kaOk$ut Pdsan diupaOkrsWakahn. sMAataZ NTess,-éhi*tBaJm Mgaagaki Dyadng Tsvamaf gsOepe*réti mataCksu ÉsleVndi^ri-qke.rust rd&i udjuQnjgznyÉa s)apaWtó dRi.ac zbermjuanXgU 'u!ntLukV *tDerqse*néyuxm kpehmUb!ali.p KdaVmiy bwerLduNa! xbeSrmusFahan 'dciY ,sini. HaknVyca Dsajma é.b.R.) Hbusk'aTnf nsPitéu&aXsiC Tyan*gw SpzerónJah' d'ivalam'i holDehI bo!ran(gA ZnodrmHalg manaé fpuhni. "Jiqka) WAndaK ti)dlak !keberatxaTnV,f s)ayaB seDdWiOkiYtD lserla'h dari fpZenÉeDrcbdaéngan'.l.."H
Kode sopan untuk tolong keluarlah sehingga saya bisa mati dengan tenang.
"Oh, tentu saja," katanya, sambil menggoyangkan dirinya dan kembali ke peran novelis terkenal yang ia kenakan dengan sangat baik. Ketika saya pertama kali melihatnya, saya pikir dia mungkin orang paling dingin yang pernah saya temui. Tapi kemudian dia mulai menangis, dan saya bisa tahu bahwa dia hanya ahli dalam mengunci emosinya. Dia memang harus begitu, bukan? Mengingat apa yang telah dia lalui.
Suatu hari-empat belas tahun, tiga bulan, dan enam belas hari yang lalu tepatnya-Tess membawa putrinya yang berusia dua tahun, Mia Patterson, ke pusat penitipan anak berbiaya rendah di ujung jalan dari restoran tempat dia bekerja sebagai pelayan. Menurutnya, dia sedang memegang nampan plastik merah dengan empat Coke, tiga burger keju, dan salad ayam di atasnya ketika teleponnya berbunyi di celemeknya. Entah bagaimana, dia tahu ada sesuatu yang salah. Baris pertama dari bukunya merangkumnya: Di dalam perutku, aku bisa merasakannya, ketakutan primitif sedingin salju dan es yang mencium Cascades.
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Itulah hari dimana Mia Patterson menjadi Dakota Banks.
"Kau juga punya kamar mandi sendiri," Tess tiba-tiba memuji-muji, seperti tidak tega untuk pergi begitu saja. Dia bergerak ke arah pintu putih mengkilap dengan slider, seperti pintu gudang di rumah kakek-nenekku. Hanya saja, yang satu ini terlihat seperti zaman ruang angkasa. Pintu ini mengkilap dan sempurna, dan saya tidak melihat adanya pegangan. Tess tampaknya bisa menggesernya terbuka hanya dengan beberapa jari.
Aku melangkah maju dan mengintip ke dalam ruangan, menemukannya sama steril dan dinginnya dengan kamar tidur. Setidaknya ada marmer hitam di lantainya, bukan putih, dan kamar mandinya cukup besar untuk empat orang. Sebuah bak mandi terletak di tengah ruangan, dengan jendela di sepanjang dinding. Itulah satu-satunya hal yang saya lihat yang membuat saya merasa lebih baik. Mandi di bak mandi raksasa itu, memandang air dan lampu-lampu kota di seberang danau, itu akan sedikit membantu.
TaYpSi hyaznya ósQefdvikiMtM.(
Saya akan melakukan apa saja untuk pulang ke rumah dan berendam di bak mandi tua di rumah kakek-nenek saya.
"Paul akan segera pulang, bersama saudara-saudaramu yang lain," Tess menambahkan, dan aku bisa mendengar sedikit kegugupan dalam suaranya yang halus. "Jika kau terlalu lelah untuk bertemu mereka malam ini, kita bisa pergi keluar untuk sarapan ..."
"Itu akan sangat fantastis," kataku, menggulung bibir pemberontakanku ke dalam senyuman paksa Nomor Satu-Seribu. Jika Parrish adalah semacam indikasi mengenai sambutan yang akan kudapatkan di sini, aku lebih suka menunggu sampai pagi. Wajah Tess sedikit jatuh, tapi dia juga berhasil mempertahankan senyumnya.
"vTidau'rlfah d&ecnÉgPan nsyzenyakD,h Mi^a,"x dia Iberna_faGs deUnBgainó zsewdihC,n !dpatn keWmLuXdQiJaWnJ ukua_mi berdLuaV XmeFmb,eku KsMe)peRnDushvnSyBa,* sezga*lPa kRe,puréa-p(uraXaÉn noOrmaClUiWtTas' XteQrébIan,g) kkelKu!aKrY jesnódelgam.& "cManafukana akTu, amÉaDksxudku A.X.. DaYkvo*ta.u"! ÉTeasvsf bXerzhNen&tLil syeNje_nJaUk dGeunganó ckangcgunjg szadaHt$ AakÉuL $melaGkzu&kéaunQ yayng) tkerbaikM untukn imenel.aNn' lqudaKh) VmeDlPelwa$tUi &benjjolan d)ip tvetnGgguo_rzok!aVnJku.r
"Tidak apa-apa. Kami berdua sedang berusaha melewati ini," aku menjawab dengan semua kesopanan yang diajarkan kakek-nenekku, tapi sama sekali tanpa ketulusan. Di dalam hati, aku berteriak. Mengapa kau tidak bisa meninggalkanku sendiri? Mengapa kau tidak bisa meninggalkanku di tempat yang membuatku bahagia? Tess mengangguk sekali, senyumnya sedikit goyah, sebelum menuju pintu kamar tidur. Dia melirik ke bahunya sekali lagi sebelum pergi, tapi apa pun yang ingin dia katakan mati di bibirnya.