I dreamed of headless men, trying desperately to speak. Men deprived of mouths but not their groping, blood soaked hands. When I woke, it was to their gloved kin pulling the IV out of me, a lone wad of gauze and some tape all that kept my own blood in my veins.

Elena had done it. One cursory final check by the doctor, then I was discharged with no mention of money or fees or charges or payment plans or— I had no idea how, but Elena had actually done it. I walked through the hospital doors a free woman to the sight of the bay, its waters stained red by the rising sun.

Red like bloody, calloused hands wrapping over my mouth. "Wouldn't want anyone interrupting, would we?"

"Alexia?"

Was it worry for me that pinched Elena's brow, or regret for having gone out on a limb for me? I gave her my best fake smile. It helped that I genuinely wanted to smile for her. I needed to look away from the water. "I'm okay."

Could she see through the brave face I wore like a mask? Would she think less of me if she did? If she saw the tears trapped in my eyes and the scream held captive in my chest? Her smile was a lifeline, a lighthouse for my ship lost in a turbulent, red sea whose waters wanted nothing more than to break my bow upon the rocks.

At length she tentatively smiled back, the crinkling of her brow eased. "Okay is good."

"Thank you, Elena."

"You are very welcome."

Huh. Last night she hadn't spoken quite so… hoity-toity was the phrase that came to mind, but that wasn't a fair description. That implied she didn't give a rat's ass about anyone other than herself, and while I still harbored some lingering doubt, she had done nothing but help me. So not hoity-toity. She sounded… refined.

And for some fucking reason that seemed to do something for me because I found myself blurting, "Would you, uh, like to get some coffee?"

Elena's smile grew wider. "That sounds delightful."

The coffee was good and the company better. It made returning to my not-home and my parents' disapproval all the more jarring and excruciating. Seven numbers were the only reason I got through it. Seven numbers and the order they were arranged repeated over and over in my thoughts as I numbly helped Mother finish unpacking the kitchen. Seven numbers and the sappy humming they tugged from my lips kept me sane as I listened to Father lecture about the nearby community college and his friend of friend of a friend who worked in the registrar's office. Seven numbers and the promise of more Elena bound up in them kept me from snapping at them both over lunch when their disapproval thinly veiled as concern became too much. Seven numbers that I had almost begun to doubt were real the longer the day dragged on.

The phone rang.

Mother was only halfway out of her seat when I lurched out of my own. Thankfully I had finally healed enough that my sudden movement didn't ruin my progress like I had after Father's announcement we would be moving to this hell hole. It's not impossible the call is for one of my parents, but the mere chance the person on the other end could be her is enough I nearly fumble the handset as I lift it to my ear.

"Junko, what are you—?"

I ignored them in favor of all but yelling into the receiver, "Moshi moshi?"

"Ah, hello? I was hoping to speak with Alexia?"

I coughed, switching to English. "Ah, h-hey! It's me. Sorry, force of habit."

"Junko, who is on the phone?" Father suspiciously asked.

The earpiece crackled with distortion as Elena breathed out what sounded like a sigh of relief. "To be honest, I half suspected you had given me a false number. I am glad you didn't."

"Junko. I asked you a question."

His tone struck a nerve, and I couldn't help the glare I threw his way. If anything, my defiance accelerated his mounting anger, his jaw tense enough he must be about to chip a tooth. Would he ever figure it out? That his Junko, his obedient child, was a goddamn lie?

That it was Alexia who had survived in that alley?