The rain in Rupert''s dream came down in torrents.

    In reality, Rupert was drenched in sweat, tossing and turning until he finally shot upright in bed.

    His heart thudded painfully, a burning ache that seemed to crawl through every vein, crushing his bones and leaving him gasping for air. Every cell in his body screamed in agony.

    He squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white, fighting to keep himself under control.

    When he opened his eyes again, thick snow was falling outside the window, nketing the world in white.

    Rupert got up, grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the windowsill, and lit one. He watched the snow swirl through the ss, smoke curling from his lips.

    He''d barely taken two drags when Orson burst in, clearly having heard him moving.

    "Mr. Rupert, you''re awake! Are you feeling alright?"

    Rupert exhaled a cloud of smoke, his voice cool and distant. "How is she?"

    Orson knew exactly who he meant. "Other than a few scrapes, she''s fine. She''s been moved out of the ICU."

    "That''s good." Rupert stared at the floor, his voice raw and gravelly as he added, "Orson, tell the doctor not toe."

    Orson blinked, surprised, but nodded. "Of course."

    In another room, Sylvia sat by the window, chin propped on her hand, watching the snowkes drift down.

    Chris knocked and stepped inside.

    "Feeling any better?"

    "I''m alright, Dr. Lennon," Sylvia replied with a small smile.

    Chris nced at the chart in his hands, grinning a bit. "Funny, I never introduced myself. How''d you know myst name?"

    Sylvia''s fingers curled slightly under her chin, the smile never fading.

    "My mom told me."

    Chris moved to the foot of her bed, looking at her intently. "If that''s the case, then hear me out for a second."

    "Sure."

    Sylvia turned back to the window, apparently uninterested in whatever Chris had to say.

    He collected himself before speaking, "You didn''t lose your memory, did you?"

    "You

    washed that night on purpose. It

    t about making cut

    ties with you in public. You

    needed to use the Garcia family''s

    car."

    "Their cars are practically tanks, reinforced to be safer than any regr car. You knew you''d survive."

    Sylvia traced patterns on the frosted ss with her finger, silent.

    Chris pressed on, "You don''t have self-harm problem. You''ve seen therapists before-you know how to

    act, how to make it convincing.ne

    "That time in the hospital, when I asked about those scratches on your arm, I think

    you already knew exactly what to do."

    "Every time we meet, you act like you''re hurting yourself. Just to get me to feel sorry for you."

    "Sylvia, you''re something else. Got me wrapped around your finger again—am I just your littlemb to fleece?"

    Sylvia froze, then burst outughing.

    "Dr. Lennon, you sure have a wild imagination. I have no clue what you''re talking about."

    Chris pressed his lips together, expression suddenly serious. "Sylvia, this is good."

    Sylvia turned, her voice calm. "Thank you. I''d like to get some rest now, if you don''t mind."

    She stood and walked to the bed.

    Chris nodded.

    On his way out, he noticed the window where Sylvia had been doodling. Tiny stars were scattered all over the fogged-up ss.

    Sylvia took the medicine the nurse brought, and soon drifted off to sleep.

    When she woke, a man was sitting quietly by her bed.

    She jumped, startled. "Who are you?"

    The man had sharp, fox-like eyes and a faint, mischievous smile.

    Hearing her voice, he smiled wider. "Would you believe me if I told you? What if I

    said I''m your boyfriend?"

    Sylvia''s cheeks med pink.

    "Don''t be ridiculous! I don''t have a boyfriend."

    He shrugged, still watching her closely "Alright, I get it. You

    have one now-but that do don

    mean

    you never will." Conte