Layla

“I’d like to speak to Willow now,” the man says. He doesn’t stop the tape recorder. He just stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to go upstairs and untie Layla.

When I make it up to the bedroom, I can tell Willow is already inside of her.

“He makes me nervous,” she says.

“He seems harmless.”

“He’s just so ambiguous. It’s been a one-sided conversation all night.

He hasn’t offered up anything.”

I don’t respond to that because I’ve known him just as long as Willow has, so I can’t vouch for his character. But what’s the worst that can happen? He doesn’t have answers? We’re already at that point, so it’s not like he can make it any worse.

Willow is quiet as we descend the stairs. When we walk into the kitchen, he’s leaning back in his chair, watching Willow intently. He’s only been in her physical presence for a few seconds tonight, when she stopped Layla from opening the front door. He’s looking at her like he’s examining her from the inside out. Willow takes a seat across from him.

“Do you want something to drink?” I ask her.

She shakes her head, her eyes fixed on the man.

He rests his hand on the table, rapping against it with his fingertips.

“What’s your first memory of this place?”

Willow shrugs a little. “I don’t have a specific first memory.”

“You just feel like you’ve always been here?” he asks.

She nods. “Yes. I mean, I know I haven’t. But I don’t remember not being here, if that makes sense.”

“Of course it makes sense,” he says gently. “It’s just like birth.

Humans know they were born, but they don’t remember it. This is no different.”

Willow seems to relax a little with his comment.

The man leans forward, eyeing her closely. “Leeds tells me you have memories of your past life.”

“I have memories that belong to both Layla and Sable, but only when I’m inside of her body.”

“What memories do you have when you aren’t inside Layla?”

“Just the memories I’ve made here.”

The man nods in understanding, still studying her intently.

“But I have feelings,” Willow adds. “Even when I’m not in a body.”

“What kind of feelings?”

Willow’s eyes cut to mine for a moment; then she looks down at her hands. “When Leeds first got here—I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. But it was like I was relieved to see him. It was the first time I remember feeling anything good.”

“Do you think you were relieved to see him specifically, or just people in general? Could the feeling have been because you were lonely?”

Willow shakes her head. “No. I was relieved because I felt like . . . I’d missed him. I felt nothing for Layla. Only Leeds.”

“And you felt this before you were in Layla’s body for the first time?”

Willow nods.

I had no idea she felt anything at all when we first arrived. But it means very little. Sable thought she had feelings for me when she was alive, so it makes a little sense that those feelings would carry over into whatever place she’s in right now.

Willow rubs the bandages on her wrists. I notice the man’s eyes drop to Willow’s hands. He stares at them. “How long have you been keeping Layla captive?” he asks.

“Captive is a strong term,” I interject.

The man turns his attention to me. “What other term would you suggest?”

I try to think of an alternative, but I can’t. He’s right. We’re holding Layla here against her will, and there’s no soft way to describe that. “We tied her up shortly after I messaged you and asked for your help.”

“Do you untie her when Willow takes over?” he asks me.

“Yes, but I don’t think we can use her much longer. She’s only slept a few hours over the last few days.”

“What does Layla think is happening?” He looks at Willow. “Does she know about you yet?”

“Leeds tried to explain to her why she couldn’t leave, but it still didn’t calm her down. So . . . we thought the best way to get her to understand would be to show her.”

The man turns to me this time. “And how did you do that?”