RULE 92: OUR ISOLATION FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD IS WHAT KEEPS US ON THE RIGHT PATH. STRAY AWAY, AND YOU WILL NOT BE SO FORTUNATE.

My search for Ma thus far was unsuccessful — not for a lack of trying, though. I had been stowed away in the Alpha Wing for the better half of a week. Suffice to say, I had plenty of time to carry out my preliminary search for Ma, but I kept coming up short, empty-handed.

I knew Ma disappeared over ten years ago, but the exact date eluded me; most days I could not remember what day of the week it was, let alone the day of the month. Most families in the Borderlands didn't keep a calendar handy since there was one posted in the town center. All I had to go off of was her name and the general year she was dragged over the Border.

Specifically, I knew she got dragged over the Border when I was eight years old. I knew that was a good starting point — my only starting point. However, knowing how to get further than conjuring up a starting point proved to be much more difficult.

Growing up with Memphis, he would always bring in and swap out newspapers from the Outside. Newspapers that would detail a week's events in the world that laid beyond the Border. Over the years, I had grown quite familiar with the newspapers, especially as sometime during my early years, Mr. Rutter started a newspaper of his very own.

Of course, his newspaper was not something the Outside would quantify as worthy enough of such an official title. Mr. Rutter would write down the happenings of the Borderlands on a sole sheet of paper, post it in the town center each Sunday, and then rinse and repeat this cycle up until his death.

Nevertheless, newspapers were – at the very least – somewhat familiar to me in this foreign world, so I determined the next step would be to locate some newspapers in hopes there were some remnants of Ma's existence in one of them. I knew my best bet would be to rummage through the library.

My heart jittered at the possibility of navigating this world entirely wrong, but I knew back in the Borderlands, our town library was a place for archives; a record of each Borderlander was filed away behind the librarian's desk, waiting for the dust to be swept of off since no one needed to look at the contents – everyone knew everyone.

As my eyes scoured the many bookshelves in the library, I huffed in anticipation of my long-awaited task. I was never one to hide behind words all day; too many of them made my head throb and my palms sweat, but I was determined to make good come out of this isolation.

Instead of dwelling on the setbacks such an isolation would cause, I was dead-set on making as much progress as I could. Realistically, I knew I was limited in my reach like I was swimming against the current. I would only be able to get so far without help from someone on the Outside, but I was not so desperate yet. I still had over two months to procure a witch. Two months to find out what happened to Ma.

With new determination, I swirled around, trying to see if I could spot any familiar glimpses of newspapers. At first glance, all I saw were books; lots and lots of books that looked to rival the ages of all the books in the Borderlands. Trying not to let this discourage me, I dragged my finger across the bookshelf as I walked, making sure to look at each shelf individually.

I had almost missed shelves jam-packed with manilla boxes, which were tucked in a hard-to-find shelf. I passed by them for a second, my mind occupied with thoughts of home when I doubled back, realizing I had passed what I had been looking for. Without a second thought, I opened one of the boxes to find it filled to the brim with newspapers.

Sighing in relief, one by one, I brought the boxes to the nearest table and began rummaging through the contents. There was certainly no way there wouldn't be any news coverage of someone coming over the Border. The Outside heavily surveyed our Border, any disturbance would be news – big or small. There had to be something.

For days, I took up my post, digging through countless newspapers published in The Daily Howl. My eyes kept a lookout for any talk of disruptions at or around the Border, but nothing was coming up. No mention of Ma was in the papers, either.

She was gone without a trace.

Eventually, through a lot of late nights and lost sleep, I was able to comb through all the newspapers that were published in the year of her crossing. There was nothing. The closest article I could find was about a group of teenagers who got in trouble for trying to throw items into the Borderlands. No mention of Ma anywhere.

She was a ghost.

A pit in my stomach grew, as I fumbled with the idea of having to tell Pa I could not locate Ma. Maybe that was for the best. It would do us no good to know the horrific details of what happened to her after she got dragged over, but I knew I was just trying to convince myself that my failure in finding Ma was calculated. For I did want to know what happened to Ma now that I had let my mind wander to the different possibilities of what could have happened to her – each more unpleasant than the next.

Begrudgingly, I accepted I had looked over all the resources handy to me, so I resided to lounge around the living room; the wear and tear of no human interaction for days was beginning to wear on my mind. Meanwhile, my body had almost made a full recovery. I still had the cast on my arm, a cut on my forehead, and bruises around my chest, but my body was slowly returning to its pre-crash condition. Mina had checked up on me right before my isolation sentence began and advised me I should now only be taking over-the-counter pain medicines.

There were moments in my isolation where I thought of confessing everything and coming clean. I could just wipe my hands of all responsibility and see where life would take me, but Pa kept popping up in my head. Do this for him. My discomfort did not compare to the potential discomfort he and the rest of my family would endure if I failed.

To be fair, I was not totally isolated in this well-stocked wing. I would try and pester Max who was stationed outside the entrance of the Alpha Wing. He hardly ever gave in to my persistent pestering, but it made me feel less alone, nonetheless, which was more than I could say Theo was doing.

Theo had not set foot in the Alpha Wing since the night he said he'd try and get the truth out of me. He did not seem so determined to figure out what I was hiding. Of course, his timeline for finding out what I was hiding was not as constrained as my timeline for finding a witch. Despite this, I was partly grateful but also partly frustrated. Now that I had determined I searched through all the resources in the library, I did not reflect on the isolation so kindly.

When I would close my eyes, all I could think about was my family, how I was holding the weight of their future on my shoulders. Max would open the door three times a day – usually when he knew I was not loitering around – and deliver meals to me. Each meal, while better than what I could make myself, could not compare to Gran's cooking. I had to force myself to swallow enough food to satisfy my hunger, my body longing for the mouth-watering food I was used to back home.

Since I no longer was occupying my time with my search, I stationed myself in the living room, ready to pounce whenever Max opened the door. I mused it was about lunchtime; Max would be arriving soon. I had been waiting on the couch for so long that my eyes were beginning to droop. I was struggling to keep my head from nodding off.

However, my body jerked up when the low whine of the door started to chime through the room. I leaped up, running to the door. Max did not look happy to see me, his eyes narrowed, lips turned up in a half frown.

"Let me out," I said, winded from running over to the door in such haste.

Max blinked at me, extending out his arm. On a platter was an unassuming bowl of soup. Soup was an odd choice for the middle of summer, but I did not express these feelings, the weight of Max's glare making me shrink back. Max thrust the platter forward, trying to get me to take it without saying a word.

Hesitantly, I took the platter, using two hands to hold it up without tipping. Looking down, I knew at once it was chicken noodle soup, but I asked anyway," is this chicken noodle?"

Max nodded, and, before I could process my actions, I burst into tears. At first, the tears slowly started to roll down my cheeks, but within a few seconds, my face was covered in big, crocodile tears as I shakily handed the platter back to Max. He looked at me as if I had grown a third eye.

My body collapsed in a heap on the couch, as I continued crying. I knew my outburst was not rational, but this realization did not prevent the waterworks from flowing. Rather, they picked up in intensity, causing me to hiccup from how hard I was crying. I knew why I was crying. It was simple: Gran was cooking my favorite meal for my birthday the day I left to go to Midnight Mercury with my friends: chicken noodle soup. I never got to taste the aftermath of Gran's cooking that day, my stomach filled with alcohol from the Outside instead.

Shaking, I tried to wipe away the tears running down my cheeks, but it was useless. I was not swift enough in my movements; the incoming tears were no match for my hazy attempts. I shoved my head into the nearest pillow to muffle the sounds that were leaking out of my mouth.

"Sage," even in my state, I could tell Mina was approaching.

I had not seen or heard from Mina in days. I assumed Theo had ordered her away, but if I was in a better state of mind, I would have had the wherewithals to give her a piece of my mind – what doctor abandoned their patient like that?

"Sage, I know you don't want to be told to calm down right now, but all this stress you are putting your healing body through is not good," Mina said as I felt the cushion next to me drop with weight. Mina then tried to pry my body up from my curled position. She was stronger than she looked, easily picking me up as if I was weightless.

"You've got to tell him to let me out of here," I turned towards Mina, eyebrows knitted together, my sobs softening. Mina timidly smiled, concern filling her face.

"I told him isolating you was not a good idea," Mina began. "It's one of the cruelest forms of punishment, in my opinion."

I looked up at her through tearful eyelashes, trying my best to conjure a look that was not so depressed. "Please, oh please, oh please. Talk to him."

"I'll see what I can do."