This time I was sure it was a dream. Everything felt sharper than usual, more surreal. “You know where Bale is, don’t you?” The ceiling was gone. Glittery white snow fell from the darkness above and filled the room. “You have him.” “I don’t,” he said with difficulty. The snow landed on him softly, but he flinched with each flake. Dots of blood formed on his skin where the snow pierced it. I thought, Maybe I’m hurting him. “What’s happening?” I asked. “You need to control yourself,” he gritted. “I don’t have Bale. If you come with me, I will help you find him. But you need to control your temper.” His saying that only made my temper flare, like a stoked coal. “Please,” he said with a grimace. I believed him. Or at least I wanted to. And it was clear he was in pain, so I grabbed my sketch pad and started scribbling. “What are you doing?” he asked. I didn’t look up. Not at the boy in my room. Not at the raining snow. “I’m calming down,” I said, breathing out through my nose slowly.
