The door to the office opened.
A woman walked in. She was wearing a white nurse's uniform. She had kind green eyes and was holding a small paper cup.
"Time for your meds, Noah," she said softly.
Noah flinched. He saw the phantom image of Catherine, the sassy cougar in the white dress. He smelled the phantom scent of lilies and rain.
"You," Noah whispered. "You gave me the candy. You made me forget."
The nurse stopped, looking confused. She looked at Dr. Catwell.
"It's okay, Catherine," the doctor said. "He's processing."
Noah looked at the cup in her hand. A small pink pill.
"It wasn't poison," Noah realized. "It was help."
"You were screaming, Noah," the nurse—Catherine—said gently. "At night. You would scream until your throat bled. The medication... it was just to help you sleep. To give your mind a break from the grief."
"I thought you were a siren," Noah said, shame coloring his cheeks. "I thought you were trying to keep me trapped in the dream."
"I was trying to keep you alive," she said, placing the cup on the desk. "We all were. We were just waiting for you to be ready to wake up."
Noah looked at the pill. He didn't take it. He didn't need it. The static was gone. The pain was there—sharp, heavy, and agonizingly real—but he didn't want to numb it anymore.
"I'm ready," Noah said. "I don't want the candy."
Catherine smiled. It was the same smile he had seen on the beach, but without the predatory edge. "That's good, Noah. That's really good."