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I stare at him. He doesn’t move or disappear, not like during the fleeting moments I’ve seen him before. He’s still as a statue beside me.

Not leaving me.

He looks at peace.

His soul isn’t tormented like Micah’s and mine because Maison’s soul was never tormented to begin with. I think tormented souls in death were tormented in life, too. Either you’re tormented or not, and being dead or alive simply doesn’t matter.

“Can you help me?” I ask in a whisper, still aware someone might be lurking outside, wondering now if that was a hallucination, too. As if, somehow, whispering will make them go away.

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t work that way, London.”

I blow out a breath, but not because he can’t help me. Of course, he can’t help me. He’s not real. But because I desperately want to touch him.

He leans forward, even closer but still out of reach. He smells the same, that heady scent I fell in love with. Sometimes, you can hear music while dreaming, and you can smell using your memories… This is the most powerful memory I’ve had so far.

“I think someone’s out there,” I finally say after a few moments of peaceful stillness, taking my time just to watch him, to appreciate him, even if I can’t have him.

He nods and looks at the door, his hair a tousled, sexy mess. “Sounds like it, doesn’t it? They are coming for you. They are still alive and out there somewhere. Can you free yourself, London, and get away from here?”

I sniffle, aware of how cold I am, tied up and shivering alone. I laugh because this is hilarious to me right now. The level of crazy in these four walls is unmatched.

My lungs struggle to expand. “I can’t go anywhere, Maison. And even if I could get free of this wire, I have nowhere to go.”

He leans down and grazes his hands over my knotted hair, his fingers causing a light tickle to my senses. Or is it the draft that always hits me in this spot? Regardless, the thought of Maison’s fingers is much better.

I close my eyes and appreciate his touch on my skin. “You need to get away from him, London,” he whispers. “He isn’t well. You know that, right? I’ve kept telling you this. I’ve warned you so many times.”

Tears well up in my eyes. “I don’t think I’m well either, Maison. I’m hallucinating right now, and the worst part is that I like it. I don’t want you to leave. Will you stay with me?”

He tilts his head. “I told you I’d love you forever, London King, and I meant it. I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

My breath grows heavy, my eyelids even heavier. Before I slip into unconsciousness and he vanishes, I steal one final glance at him. The tightness in my stomach cripples me. It’s like losing him all over again. He’s watching me like he used to when we spent countless hours gazing into each other’s eyes. Micah and I don’t gaze. Our chemistry is different; we fuse our bodies as if we are one. But I miss gazing, and Maison was so good at it.

“Maison,” I whisper.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

He sits next to me, out of reach. “Rest now, London.” His hand rests on my back, then slides up to my cheek. The pressure of him kisses my skin. How am I able to feel him?

“He isn’t a terrible person,” I say as my eyelids grow droopy. “And he’s taking care of me. He’s doing this to protect me because he’s afraid to lose me. He’ll be back soon.”

The lies I tell myself to validate Micah’s actions… Saying it out loud makes me sound even more pathetic, and I’m not sure if I believe it anymore.

I can hear Maison breathe. Somehow, I can hear the air pass through his lungs, the same sound I listened to for weeks when I was with him. It’s calming, dulling my senses.

“He isn’t coming back to you, London. You have to get out of here. Because if you don’t, you will die. You need water to survive, baby, and he didn’t leave you any.”

He didn’t leave me any water… Why didn’t he leave me any water? He wasn’t supposed to be gone this long. He wasn’t planning on leaving me like this.

“Something happened to him, Maison. He loves me.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but look at how he left you, London. Would someone who isn’t sick in the head leave someone like this? I would never leave you like this, not in a million years.”

He’s right. He was always right about his twin. After all, Maison would know him best. He’s also right about the fact that he would never, ever leave me in this condition.

Bile seeps into my throat at the thought of what he’s insinuating. “I’m so tired, Maison. I just want to sleep. Can I sleep?”