They arrived at Evan's school like a storm with a calm face. Ndeshi gripped her father's sleeve; Simon's jaw was a map of lines set in anger. Evan stepped out into the courtyard and froze. He looked small under the afternoon light — scared, confused, curious all at once.
"What happened to Paige?" he asked, voice thin.
Simon's eyes narrowed. "So—you know her name is Paige?"
Evan blinked. "I mean… she's my sister."
"Exactly." Simon's words hit like a verdict.
Evan's face folded in on itself. "What do you mean? Why are you here?"
"You're an evil brother!" Simon bellowed.
Heat crawled under Evan's skin. He straightened, a challenge in his posture. "Mind your language — this is my school. I won't let you destroy it." His look had a coldness that could be lethal.
"What happened to my sister?" he demanded again.
"Paige is fine," Simon said, but the sentence had the taste of something half-swallowed.
Evan turned and started to leave. "I have work to do," he said, but his steps were small, uncertain.
"Vicky knows she's Paige," Simon called after him.
Evan stopped. The word struck him and folded him back toward his father like a puppet on a string. He came close, voice reduced to a whisper: "What?"
Simon's expression hardened; compassion had no place in this conversation."You gave her a Synapse Pulse," he said quietly. "That only erased what happened last night at that psycho's house. But she knows something's missing, Evan. She can feel the blank space like a hole in her own thoughts. Paige's behavioral patterns are resurfacing inside Vicky — their identities are starting to weave together."
Evan's complexion drained to the color of ash, disbelief and dread warring behind his eyes. "Hey. I'm protecting her — protecting all of you. I did what I thought was best."
"You thought," Simon said, his voice a blade without pity. "Your mistake was using Chrono-Silane — it doesn't delete, it edits. It leaves traces — seams she can tug at. And you remember what happens when Chrono-Silane interacts with the Eterna Code?"
Evan swallowed. "It restarts the process… and she remembers everything."
"Exactly." Simon's chuckle was dry and without humor. "No. She won't stay erased forever. Paige's personality didn't vanish like a deleted file. It's waiting for the right trigger. If she ever steps into Paige's role, the rest will stitch back together. I'm only sorry for you the day she finds out who took her right to be fully herself."
"She won't," Evan insisted. "I made sure. I erased Paige's threads. She won't interact with those moments—she won't replay the fights, the bombs—"
"Whatever happened last night," Simon interrupted, voice low and sharp, "is the mirror of the night Victor died, five years ago."
"It's erased. She won't interact," Evan said, trying to sound certain. But his eyes betrayed him: he was not certain.
Simon remembered the earlier today when Vicky and Ndeshi had tugged at one another's headphones, the way Vicky had flinched. He let out a short, angry sound. "Evan—you're more understanding by nature, maybe because it's inborn. But kid, don't make us repeat what happened five years ago." Then he left, leaving a cold quiet in his wake.
Evan stood there, confusion and fear coiling in his chest like a living thing.
By the time the small drama at the school dwindled, the police office had begun to empty. Karen stepped out, hair caught in the late light, while Vicky and Nate were still on the squishy carpet near a little girl who had declared them 'arrested' in a game that made everyone laugh.
"Are you finished?" Nathan asked, smiling.
"Yes!" Karen announced, a bright tiredness in her voice. Then she glanced around. "Um… where's Dad?"
Vicky's eyes flicked to the door and then narrowed. "Hm. He escaped."
"Do you mind speaking aside?" Vicky asked, voice dropping just enough to pull Karen toward the benches outside.
The uniformed officer who had been handling them turned to Nathan with a professional tilt. "Mr. Nathan, everything's cleared. You're free to go."
"I was always free," Nathan said. He watched Vicky with the fierce protectiveness of someone who'd learned the hard physics of keeping a person safe. "Who tried to kill Vicky?"
"That's not for disclosure yet," the officer said. "Ms. Samuels, our investigations will continue. We'll eventually catch the masked man."
"Doesn't he have a name?" Vicky and Nathan asked together.
The officer shook his head. "We call him "The Mask" because no one knows who he is. He's been on our list—drug dealer, has a pit somewhere in Windhoek."
Vicky folded her arms. "What does that have to do with me?"
"We're not certain," the officer admitted. "He may see you as a threat—maybe you know something, saw something. So someone tried to erase you."
"I don't know anything," Vicky said.
"We'll find out," the officer answered, voice steady as a promise.
Karen leaned forward, earnest. "Vicky—don't go investigating on your own. It's too dangerous."
"I need answers," Vicky said. "Starting with why you keep calling me 'Paige.' Come on, let's go." She reached for Nathan and, forgetting she still wore the plastic kid-handcuffs from play, tugged — and tumbled, dragging Nate down in a graceless, laughing heap.
"How did you get handcuffed?" the officer asked, bemused.
"I arrested them. They're thieves," the girl declared proudly.
"Yeah, we're playing," Nathan said, grinning.
The girl laughed. Her father — another officer — pretended to scold her; the child's face fell for a second, then brightened with apologies. Vicky knelt, brushing her hair back as if in a small rite of peace.
"No, no — my pumpkin is not mischievous. She's just playing," Vicky said, and the child gave her a solemn, earnest hug.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It's fine," Vicky said. "Now… keys?"
They opened the handcuffs and rose. Karen's phone buzzed and she answered, stepping away. "Hello?"
"Kyle? Where are you?" she asked, and the line went taut.
"Kyle?" she repeated, worry sharpening her tone. Then she moved outside, voice dropping. "Where are you? I was so scared something happened to you."
"I'm at the house," came Kyle's voice, thick with something that made Karen's stomach drop.
"You need to leave, Kyle. That's not a house anymore."
"It's all I've ever known," Kyle said. And then, a sound that was a breaking: "Whoever did this — I'm going to kill him." He was looking at bodies. The words were raw and furious.
"Kyle, don't talk like that. I'm coming," Karen said, and hung up without waiting.
Vicky emerged from the doorway just then, wiping imaginary dust from her hands. She looked around at the cluster of adults, their faces small islands of concern.
"Oh," she said softly, almost to herself. "They're all trying to avoid me."
The sentence hung between them like a signpost. No one argued. No one comforted. The air tasted of things unsaid — secrets and small betrayals — and Vicky felt the weight of being the axis everyone's storm revolved around.