Jesse saw black and red on the edges of his vision, and he knew he was holding onto consciousness by a sliver. If he let go, if he let himself slip away, the pain would stop. But Jesse couldn’t shake the fear that if he went to sleep, he’d never wake up again. And it wasn’t so bad he was willing to risk death just yet.
Marcus was sitting near the red toolbox, one leg crossed over the other as he polished the knife in his hand. He had a whole assortment of tools and weapons resting at his feet. Drying. Soon, he would need more than a simple rag to clean the weapons. Jesse tried to look away, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. He tried to choose another memory to follow—the first time Gideon told him he loved him, his first time with Emma—but it didn’t matter how well he knew these memories. He n
