"This isn't funny, Keefe, why are we in the same bed?" Sophie shrieked, her hair like a rat's nest on her head.
"I don't know, Foster, but why are we so grown up?" Keefe yelled back, his eyes wide as he felt his torso.
"Mom?" asked a little girl, s...
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right after the last
Sophie POV:
Sophie! rang through my head like an alarm. I knelt in the middle of Havenfield, watching the wreckage in disbelief. I killed Edaline? This was my fault?
More importantly, where had the fire come from? It didn't come from me, that wasn't possible. Right?
Unless...
No. It wasn't possible, and I wasn't going to think about any of this anymore. It wasn't actually me. It was me from an alternate universe. None of this had happened yet and none of this would happen. I could fix it.
I would fix it. I had to.
Sophie! grew louder in my head until it was all I could think about.
My eyes snapped open. I sat up with a start.
"Sophie!" yelled Keefe, and I realized belatedly that it had been his voice echoing in my head. He was being held back by both Jolie and Brant and looked none too happy at the fact. "Sophie!" he shouted again, struggling against their hold in an effort to get closer to me.
"Keefe?" I wondered, still a bit in shock from the memory.
"Sophie!" he yelled again, because apparently that was the only word in his vocabulary now.
Jolie and Brant frowned simultaneously, as if they were sharing one mind. It was a bit creepy, to be honest, but then again, when had Brant not been creepy?
"I'm okay," I rasped, my voice hoarse. "Keefe," I said again when he wouldn't stop struggling. "I'm fine."
I felt light-headed, as if I was floating on air. The room seemed too bright, the lights all blurred and fluorescent. My face felt wet, but it wasn't as if I had been crying. I wiped my nose and it came away crimson, my fingertips stained red. My nose was bleeding...?
All of a sudden, I remembered what my purpose was. "Grady?" I whispered from where I sat on the floor. "Grady?" I repeated more urgently when no one responded, trying to pull myself up using the edge of the bed.
Keefe rushed to my side and helped me up, having broken free from Jolie and Brant. I clutched his arm and wobbled on my feet, feeling unsteady.
Grady didn't look so pale anymore. It wasn't as if I had fixed him, but almost as though something within him had righted itself.
"He'll be fine," Jolie reassured me, answering my unspoken question out loud. "I don't know how, but... he's okay."
"I don't think it was me," I answered honestly, still holding Keefe's arm in a death grip. "I think... I think it was him. Grady, I mean. I don't think I fixed anything; it was all him."
