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shower.
    â€œAugustine!”
    The Committee’s mention of my name jolted me, and I shut off the shower, taking the voice more seriously. Still, I was tired, depressed. Spying on The Committee was going to take more than I had.
    â€œListen!”
    Okay. Fine. Geez.
    I filtered through the cries and bickering in my head until I found a panic-stricken female voice.
    I zeroed in.
    The girl said, “I’ll scream! I swear I’ll scream.”
    I’d definitely heard her voice before. Maybe a teacher. Or classmate. Her frenzied pitch made it impossible to tell.
    As promised, the scream came. Then her footsteps running away. Another pair pursued.
    Thud of a tackle.
    Crash-down of bodies denting the earth.
    Grunts.
    Scuffling.
    â€œGet off me!”
    Merryn! It was definitely Merr—
    A smash of fist into face.
    I cringed, shivered. Raced to my locker, listening. I slipped on the wet floor, tears welling, eyes foggy.
    It had to be Chool. He was getting at me through Merryn. I pictured the things he would do to her. It was all my fault. I should’ve gone after him.
    A male voice came this time. “Easy Knock,” it said, calm and smooth.
    Tucker? Whether he or Chool was worse, I didn’t know.
    â€œRemember, my friend, we are not to kill her.”
    I spun out the combination to my locker, hands shaking. Wrong combo.
    â€œDamn!”
    Muffled sounds of more struggling. Fearful squeals.
    I twirled the dial again and threw open my locker.
    Knock landed another punch, this one to softer tissue.
    A broken-accordion wheeze gushed out of Merryn’s lungs and stomach. She whispered, “Daddy.”
    My knuckles struck the inside of the locker.
    Scrambled for my cell phone, flipped it open, and hit 911.
    â€œSomeone’s killing her!” I yelled into my cell, pulling my pants over wet legs.
    â€œCalm down, sir. Who is in danger?”
    â€œMerryn!” I rushed to button up my jeans.
    â€œWhere are you, sir?”
    â€œI-I-I’m at the high school!”
    â€œWhat high school?”
    â€œShe’s not…here…though.”
    I realized 911 could never help. If I didn’t know where Merryn was, no one did.
    I stabbed END and called Uncle Will.
    Shoved on a sock and shoe.
    Voicemail.
    I bolted out of the gym, half-dressed, shirt thrown over my shoulder. Speed-dialed Aunt Laurel, but the cell phone slipped. It hit the pavement and the battery popped out. I kicked it aside and kept running. To where, though?
    Her house.
    Less than a mile away. A little past Saint Perpetua’s. I’d find her somewhere along the way.
    The coming dusk made it difficult to see. I slowed to a jog, my eyes searching for anything resembling a human in trouble—someone sprawled among tree roots, stuffed into bushes, half-buried in a shallow grave…
    A year went by in that ten minutes before I found her. She was in a ditch in the forest, as still as death.
    I have since blanked out the details of what Merryn looked like when I discovered her. All I can tell you is that there was a lot of red and black.
    The colors of Hell.

Chapter Twelve
    I carried Merryn, slack and boneless, through the church cemetery—her torso wet with my tears. In the distance, a light burned in Amos’s work shed.
    â€œAmos!” If he killed me, fine. Just get Merryn to a hospital.
    The shed doors creaked open and he came out with a flashlight.
    â€œMerryn… Merryn…” was all I could say.
    Amos saw her battered body and waved me forward while running to his old station wagon. He turned over the engine and opened the passenger door so I could get in with Merryn.
    As we drove, I told him everything, robot-like, while staring blankly at the road ahead. I spoke in a flat voice void of emotion about The Committee, Smiler and Knock, losing to Tucker, the shower, and hearing Merryn scream.
    I asked him if he still wanted to kill me. Told him now would be a good time.
    â€œSon,”