CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - AMY

Amy stood on the edge of the pier, her eyes fixed on the endless stretch of gray water. The waves rolled in slow, relentless patterns, the ocean wind biting so harshly against her skin—tugging at her hair, flinging strands into her face, but she didn’t move to brush them away. She welcomed its sting, the way it clawed at her, exposed her, as if the air itself knew what she’d done. Anything to drown out the memories.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the wooden railing, her knuckles white as if she could physically hold herself together. But no matter how hard she squeezed, no matter how much the rough surface hurt, the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

She had broken her rule. 

For years, she’d told herself that she wouldn’t, that she couldn’t cross that line. No brains. No matter how much people begged, no matter how tempting it was, there would be no exceptions. Not because she didn’t have the skill—she knew she could do it. She could fix mental illness, repair damaged neurons, and reconnect synapses. But the risks were too great. The consequences too severe. One mistake, one slip, and she could destroy everything that made someone them.

But when it came to Mark, her father—the man she’d barely been able to look in the eye for years, yet still loved more than she could admit—she hadn’t hesitated. The memory burned in her mind: the sight of his limp body, blood pooling around him as Murder Rat loomed above. Amy had acted on instinct, her hand flying to his temple, her power surging through him before she could think.

She’d felt the wrongness of it, even as relief surged through her at the sight of his chest rising and falling, the color returning to his face. Then he stood. Strong. Alive. And with a fury she’d never seen in him, he’d killed Murder Rat without hesitation.

Amy squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t erase the image of him placing the orb of light in the gap where two claws crossed one another, just over her heart, and stepping away. He’d looked like a stranger, his face twisted with raw emotion and sprayed with blood. Not her gentle father. Not the man who’d always seemed so passive, so weak. She had changed him.

Maybe not in a way anyone else would notice. Maybe it was nothing more than a subtle shift, a loosening of something inside him. But it was enough. Enough to make Amy realize how thin the line was between healing and playing god.

Amy didn’t regret saving him. She regretted what it said about her.

Footsteps behind her broke through her thoughts, soft and hesitant on the weathered planks. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Amy,” Victoria’s voice was soft, barely audible. “I’ve been looking for you.”

She could imagine her sister’s expression as she stood a few feet away, a mix of anger and concern, her blonde hair disheveled from the wind, and her blue eyes locked onto Amy’s like she was trying to will her to stay in place.

Amy closed her eyes, hoping to wipe the image from her mind. It didn't work. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Do you really think I’d just let you run off?” Victoria’s voice was sharp now, anger bleeding through the concern. “You disappeared, Amy. We were worried sick. Mom’s—”

“Don’t,” Amy snapped, spinning around to face her. “Don’t talk to me about Mom.”

Victoria stopped. For a moment, there was only the sound of the waves and the distant hum of the city behind them. Her blonde hair was indeed windblown, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She looked so much like a hero, so composed, so perfect, it made Amy sick.

“Mom’s the reason I’m like this,” Amy continued, her voice cracking. “She’s the one who made me think I had to be perfect. That I had to follow the rules, no matter what. But I couldn’t, Vic. I couldn’t watch him die.”

“Amy,” Victoria tried again, softer this time. “What happened?”

Amy let out a bitter laugh, the sound foreign even to her own ears. “What do you think happened? I did what I wasn’t supposed to do. I fixed him. I fixed Dad.”

Victoria’s brows furrowed. “And that’s a bad thing? Amy, you saved his life.”

“No, Vic.” Amy's voice rose. “I didn’t just save him. I changed him. You didn’t see it. You didn’t see what he did to her. How he looked when he did it. That wasn’t him. That wasn’t Dad.”

Victoria crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. “So what? He fought back? He defended himself for once? Good. Murder Rat would’ve killed both of you if he hadn’t stopped her.”

Amy shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “You don’t get it. You’ve always been so… so sure of yourself. You don’t know what it’s like to doubt every choice you make, to feel like one wrong move could ruin everything.”

Victoria stepped closer, her voice softening. “Amy, you didn’t ruin anything. You saved Dad. You saved me.” She stepped closer, hands outstretched as if approaching a wounded animal. “Amy, no one’s blaming you for saving Dad. We’re grateful. I’m grateful. But you can’t just run away. You’re part of this family.”

“This family?” The question was rhetoric, tinged once again with her bitter laugh. “This family doesn’t even want me. I’m not Carol’s daughter; I’m just the kid she got stuck with. And now I’ve ruined everything. I’m supposed to be the healer, the one who fixes things. But all I ever do is break them.”

Victoria reached for her, but Amy flinched back, shaking her head.

“I broke my rule, Vic,” Amy said, her voice trembling. “I broke it, and it didn’t even feel wrong. It felt… good. Like I could do anything. Like I could fix everything that’s broken in this world. And that terrifies me.”

“You’re not a monster, Amy,” Victoria said firmly. “You made a choice to save someone you love. That doesn’t make you broken. It makes you human.”

Amy looked at her, tears streaming down her face. “But what if I am, Vic? What if this is just the beginning? What if I can’t stop myself next time? What if I start thinking I should fix everyone—what if I want to?”

“That’s not who you are,” 

“How do you know?” Amy whispered.

Victoria hesitated, and Amy could see the doubt flicker in her sister’s eyes. It was brief, but it was enough to shatter whatever fragile hope Amy had been holding onto.

“I can’t go back,” Amy said, stepping away. “Not after this. Not to Mom, not to Dad, not to you. I need… I need to figure this out on my own.”

Victoria reached out again, grabbing her arm. “You don’t have to do this alone, Amy. Whatever you’re going through, we can handle it. Together.”

Amy looked at her, her vision blurred by tears. “I love you, Vic. But you don’t understand. You can’t understand.”

Victoria’s grip tightened. “Then help me understand. Don’t just walk away. Please.”

Amy’s resolve wavered. For a moment, she considered letting Victoria pull her back, letting her sister carry the weight she felt crushing her. But she couldn’t. This was hers to bear.