There is a small threshold of consciousness, somewhere between waking and dreaming, when one is not quite cognizant of all the waking world holds, nor has one quite lost the grip on those fleeting fragments of dreams that linger. For Cadence, this was the most dangerous and feared state of mind because she knew, even before she fluttered off to sleep that, upon waking, for just a brief synapse, she would, in fact, forget that Drew was gone. It was in that moment, just before fully rejoining the wakened world that her mind would momentarily allow her to believe that all was as it should be, and then, as the memories rushed in, filling the vacant tidepool of her conscious mind, so too would the realization that something was amiss, an occurrence had transpired. Just as the pounding waves crush and carve the solid stone, so too, would the remembrances force her mind to submit, causing the same rush of initial pain to beat down on her once again.

It was for this reason alone that she had been thankful to forgo true sleep for as long as she had. In her experience, being physically exhausted was much easier to deal with than even the briefest moment of reliving the horror she had felt the day before in realizing that Drew was dead. But after a few hours of sleep, she was brought crashing back to reality, reliving those moments all over again as her mind let go of one world and focused in on another.

As her eyes flittered, she slowly arrived back where she had left off. The sun poured through the cracks in the curtains, a reminder that she played such a small role in the cast of the universe that it mattered not how she felt or her degree of grief, the march of life clambered on despite her.

And yet, after her discussion with her grandmother, Eliza, and Jamie, she did feel slightly less insignificant. She rolled over on the small twin mattress, adjusting the blankets and attempting to block some of the sun’s rays from her eyes. If what Jamie said earlier were true, perhaps, she may have it within her to make a significant impact on the Clandestine Ternion. Even after seeing herself on the footage Eliza had provided, she was still having difficulty believing she had performed all of those feats of skill. She had always been a naturally gifted athlete when she had attempted to play sports as a child, but she never stood out. If she had been able to run that quickly up and down the basketball court, perhaps her Optimist Basketball league team would have won the fifth grade tournament.

Even though her grandmother’s house was decent sized, it was also old, and noise traveled easily. She could hear voices coming from downstairs, and she was certain there were more than three. In fact, she was positive she could hear at least two more voices, one of which she did not recognize, the other one becoming increasingly more familiar. Perhaps it had been this deeper booming voice, the unfamiliar one, which had jarred her back to reality. Aaron’s voice was much quieter and more controlled. She could hear him, though she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Each time the other man spoke, she could understand every single word.

From what she could gather, it seemed that these two were reminiscing with her grandmother about battles from long ago. It had been difficult for Cadence to place Aaron in the same age category as her own grandmother, to accept that they could be contemporaries. He looked like he was just a few years older than her, and yet, from what her grandmother said, he had to be over one hundred. It was just another piece of this enigma she couldn’t quite understand.

Occasionally, she would hear the chipper lull of Eliza’s voice, and in some ways, it reminded her of Drew. They had a few commonalities. They were both fairly happy, with bubbly personalities. They were both what Cadence considered “little and cute” in that they were petite and attractive. They were both easily amused. And they both seemed to overreact a bit when they got their feelings hurt. One of the things that crossed Cadence’s mind as she pondered whether or not to go through with the Transformation was that it would provide her with an opportunity to walk away from the painful parts of the life she had known before, while simultaneously ripping her away from all that she had known and loved. This was a delicate balance and one that needed to be weighed carefully. It was appealing in that, given the opportunity to begin afresh, she would no longer carry the burden of familiarity—no longer be forced to see the things and the people that reminded her of Drew. She would still be working to vindicate her death, which would keep her at the forethought of her mind, but it may also provide her the solace of pretend, as distance often allows one to do. If she could somehow believe that Drew was truly back safe at home, sitting on her bed reading a magazine and petting her little Chihuahua, Muffin, then, the pain of losing her would be a bit more manageable. Even though refusing to Transform meant going back to college, returning to class and the pursuit of her teaching degree, she would still be periodically faced with the things that reminded her of where she had been before. Even catching the eye of a fellow Shenandoah High graduate across campus might be enough to send her reeling back into reliving Drew’s final moments again and again for years to come.

There were a lot of considerations to be sorted through, and she was hopeful that she would be given all of the time she needed to come to her own conclusion without the pressures of those who thought they knew what was best for her.

She finally decided it was time to go join the others. She stood and stretched, realizing she should probably change her clothes since she had slipped into a T-shirt and linen pants to nap. She pulled on a pair of jeans from her bag and changed her shirt. Just as she was deciding it would be a good idea to stop by the restroom at the end of the hall on her way down, she heard a tapping at her door and wondered how he could possibly have known she was awake.