Margo awoke with a jolt and a scream.

She looked down at herself, trapped in confusion. She was lying in her bed, her pillow smushed beneath her, and she was also clad in her Psychwatch uniform. Her Fatemaker remained clenched in her hands, and she was relieved to see that no shots were fired as a result of some accidental reflexes. She already had to patch up several holes in her wall from the last incident at her place. And it was bad enough she still couldn't identify a culprit.

She couldn't remember when she had fallen asleep the previous night. She could only remember furthering the decay of her relationship with her sister while awaiting the arrival of some unknown individual sent to kill her. It was always the same: there was always one thing certain individuals were never meant to learn. But if she survived another night, maybe she wasn't entirely screwed just yet.

She placed her gun down on the nightstand and asked her clock to display the time. Her heart nearly stopped when 1:35 PM hovered above her in bright green.

"Damn it!" she hissed. She clawed for her ThoughtControl piece, still swearing at herself. The thought of some unknown enemy coming to take her life vanished with the night.

She dialed for Mason. "Hello? Commissioner? This is Officer Sandoval. I'm sorry about—"

"You've been assigned a week off, " Mason said bluntly. "You and any officer eighteen and under. Please take the time to seek therapy and emotional support. I'll see you next Saturday."

"What did you do to Carl?" Margo growled, but the call ended before she could finish her sentence.

She wanted to rip her mattress to shreds, launch a pillow at the window so hard, the glass would shatter once again. Track down the commissioner, aim her Fatemaker to the woman's head and demand that Carl is set free. Otherwise, she'd sacrifice everything to bring Psychwatch down, as ineffective as that would be. But those irrational thoughts vanished like dust, and she hoped there wouldn't be a day that a SanityScan would detect those kinds of delusions in her.

She stared at the wall and delivered one more message. "Hey Carl, it's Margo. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I hope Mason and the other doctor-cops aren't treating you too badly. And let us know where you'd like to go for dinner tonight! A treat from me and my mom. Love you! Happy Birthday once again!"

She broke the connection, and embarrassment filled her from head to toe. It was rare she told Carl she loved him and even more unlikely that he'd say it back. Even when they were close enough to be family, the words still felt like a risk being taken when uttered. Maybe it's because I still miss my real dad, Margo thought. Somehow. It's normal to miss someone you can't remember, right?

With a frustrated groan, Margo rose from her bed, proceeding to strip off her clothes as she marched over to her bathroom for a shower. She didn't bother picking out any fresh ones just yet. The future wasn't close enough, she thought.

"Good afternoon, sis," chimed a familiar, unbearable voice only slightly deeper than her own. "Reply back if you weren't murdered in your sleep last night."

"You're a bitch," Margo barked into her piece as she removed her last articles of clothing, standing before the shower chamber. "Get off the line. I don't want to talk to you."

"Oh yay! You're not dead! Thank goodness. I wanted to ask you something."

Margo turned the water on. "Ellie, I am not in the mood to talk right now, " she said. "A Red Riot just occurred here yesterday, Carl's being partially blamed for it, and I'm about to take a shower. So if it wasn't obvious, there's a lot on my plate right now. Call me back later."

"Wait, wait, wait! I wanted to ask you something: do you remember what I look like?"

Margo was only seconds away from grabbing her ThoughtControl piece and crushing it to bits in her hand. "Do you really think that matters to me right now?" she screamed.

"Margo, honey, just hear me out. Do you remember what I look like? And think hard about this one."

Margo exhaled, a small portion of her frustration melting away like snow. She looked at herself in the mirror, studying her naked body, wincing at the sight of her hideous scars and the stitches that held her body and her mind together.

She came to a conclusion. "You looked a lot like me," she said. "Right?"

"That's right!" Ellie chirped. "But slightly taller, prettier, bigger boobs, nicer hips, and way more self-confident. Other than all those obvious differences, we're practically twins!"

"Very modest of you," Margo groaned with an eye-roll. "So why the hell are we body-shaming me again?"

"That was actually unintentional. Sorry about that. But the point is: I actually look quite different now. And you'll get to see everything that changed when I come to visit you soon!"

Margo's eyes widened. "Ellie," she choked, "why are—"

"See you in about two weeks! And don't tell Mom. I want you to be the first to see me."

She disconnected.

Confusion shrouded Margo's mind like smog once again. Her mouth remained gaping open as she tried comprehending this surprise visit. Granted, it was helpful that Ellie at least warned her in advance, but of all people, Ellie? A woman whose existence is no longer acknowledged by her own mother? What could she have done to do that? And would she do something again to invoke hatred from her own sister?

Putting those paranoid thoughts to a temporary rest, Margo removed her ThoughtControl piece and stepped into the shower.

Several minutes later, she was out and dry. A towel was wrapped around her hair and torso as she picked out her clothes. Right after gathering up the pieces of her Psychwatch uniform she left stranded about the hallway, that is. She stood in her room as she slid on a pair of blue jeans and a plain gray shirt, hundreds of thoughts racing through her mind like birds from a burning forest.

Ellie is actually gonna see us again? Why is she doing this? Is she gonna say it's a prank at the last second? How will Mom react? Will she ever even see Mom again? And what about Carl? Is he safe? Are—

Margo collapsed into her bed, taking a deep breath as she attempted to force each fleeting thought into imaginary filing cabinets. However, she'd figured they would grow full too quickly and burst open shortly thereafter. She needed a single thing to focus on, something that would make her feel like she served a purpose. Something that wasn't hidden in the dark like every other thing that went through her head.

With her ThoughtControl piece nudged back into her ear, she called her mother.

"Margo?" Karen asked. "You alright, sweetie?"

"Could be better," Margo replied with another exhale. "Mason gave me the week off so I could recover, even though I found out I could get my stitches out a week early. But she's keeping Carl busy today, so I don't think we'll be able to take him out tonight."

"Poor Carl. I don't understand why Mason doesn't trust him. They've known each other forever, haven't they?"

"Yeah. Carl told me they used to work together as regular cops. But it's only happening because Andrade doesn't trust him. Any alter that isn't Catalina, that is."

"Geez. How did she end up earning the rank of Inspector again?"

"She helped advance the rehab programs after entering one herself years ago. That's where she built her loyalty for Psychwatch."

"Interesting." An awkward silence formed between the two before Karen continued. "Anyway, I'm sure you have quite a bit of free time now. Do you have any plans for today?"

Margo cleared her throat, still laying on her bed. "I was about to ask," she said, "are you still volunteering?"

"Absolutely. I've been here since seven this morning. Skinner High School. Would you like to help out?"

The word was hard to get out. She couldn't stop thinking of Ellie's sudden decision to visit. She wondered if hanging around her mother was the best plan after learning that. It would only be a matter of time before she'd let the truth out. Would she end up shunned like her sister? Forced to become invisible like a figment of one's imagination?

Rationality was running short in Margo's brain, and she eventually responded to her mother with a hesitant "Yes."

* * *

Five hours had passed, and the gymnasium of Skinner High didn't grow any quieter.

The lights flickered above Margo as she and her mom wheeled two wounded citizens to their loved ones. She trekked through a labyrinth of curtains and cots to get to the entrance, where these two teens would hopefully be greeted by their guardians. But she winced at the possible reactions they'd have once they'd discover their sons or nephews or whoever these boys were now had new prosthetic legs. She figured they'd be more emotive than the actual patients before her. One boy seemed intrigued by his new limbs, probably psyched at the idea he was now a cyborg, while the other stared off into space searching for a way to erase the previous day from his memory.

Margo didn't need a SanityScan to know that this boy, along with hundreds of other citizens that day, would need time to heal. Scars aren't ever just physical, she thought. Not anymore, at least.

Once the two boys were reunited with their parents, Margo saw the school's principal standing outside the door in the hallway. Isabella Zhang, her nametag read. She was the same woman Carl and Andrade interviewed regarding the murder of Donny Redford, she remembered. They told her it didn't end well. Zhang's school became a subject of mass controversy, and opening up the gym was her attempt at an apology. But no matter what she tried, she never believed she would ever be forgiven.

Before she could even take a single step toward the woman, her mother stopped her. "It might be best to leave her alone, sweetie," Karen said sheepishly. "She gets extremely uncomfortable around Psychwatch officers."

Margo slipped her hand into her pocket to feel her badge. "Most people usually do, Mom," she chuckled. "But we're not gonna hold anything against her."

"That's the problem. Nearly everyone here thinks you should. Even the MindLock members. I've noticed they've been quieter lately now that they found Wendell Asch dead." Karen grimaced. "I'm normally not one for graphic details, but is it true they found him with his head split open?"

"All across the floor, " Margo replied, and she and her mom grew quiet once she realized other people were staring, including a few noticeably livid MindLock members.

"Maybe we should take this discussion somewhere else," Karen whispered quickly as she took her daughter's arm, and the two of them marched back into the maze. Once the coast was clear again, Karen jumped right back into the deep end. "Also, I'm really sorry about what happened to Dottie. Poor girl could've used some positive influences in her life like Carl."

"Yes, she could've," Margo croaked. Frustration grew within her as her mom suddenly decided to unintentionally ruin her daughter's day.

"And now he can't even celebrate his own birthday today? Geez. Life's just getting harder and harder."

"Y-Y-You said it, Mom," Margo replied with a nervous gulp.

"Let's just hope there aren't any more surprises anytime soon."

The truth tried to break its way out of Margo like a leak in a dam. She never thought she'd ever want to strangle her mother, but that possibility popped in. Her rationality worked quickly that time, however, and she took out her guilt and frustration on an empty cardboard box laying on the floor, bursting it open with a kick.

Margo didn't realize she had done that next to a large playpen full of really young children. Suddenly, she received stares from seven different kids, three of which broke down laughing. She would've been more embarrassed if it weren't for the fact she'd managed to bring joy to kids who spent the past hours not knowing if they'd see their parents again.

"Aww, did that mean box try to hurt you?" Karen asked in an exaggerated tone, and the kids laughed once again. Margo rolled her eyes at that but couldn't resist letting out a quick chuckle.

Before she could make another move, Margo froze in place as she felt her mother rest her hand on her shoulder. "That was kind of you for doing that, " she told Margo with a smile. "Not kind to the box, of course, but at least the kids feel a little better now."

"Yeah, I feel a little better, too, to be honest," Margo replied, smiling back.

"Well, I'm glad, honey." Karen paused to glance down at her phone. "In the meantime, feel free to walk around and get to know people. I have to go do something really quick, but I'll let you know when we could use your assistance again."

"Alrighty, Mom." And she waved goodbye as her mom disappeared back into the maze of curtains and cots.

Margo spun around in place to take in the miniature city around her. Without her mom, the sounds of wailing and groaning returned. She was glad it didn't sound as horrible as the previous day, but she could still hear clearly when someone cried at the loss of another life or screamed at the sight of their own wounds. But everything around her was proof that progress was still being made. The carts full of cybernetic limbs passing her by, the prayer groups sitting around in circles, kind men and women offering fresh sets of clothes to the poorer patients. She hadn't lost hope yet.

Walking around the gym, Margo came across a dozen people sitting in chairs, each person hooked up to a VR headset. A sign stood in front of them reading VR THERAPY IN PROGRESS, and each person was accompanied by either a nurse, an Empath, or both. However, at the edge of the group rested two especially conspicuous seats: one that was empty and another in which a familiar young man sat in a lazy position as if he'd passed out.

It didn't take long for Margo to connect the dots, and she approached her amateur colleague and tapped him on the leg. "Holden, wake up," she said.

Suddenly, Holden jumped back into his seat, as if he were being attacked. He squirmed around violently, fighting off an enemy that wasn't even there, before finally yanking the headset off. It took everything to keep Margo from screaming at the sight of him. His eyes were bright red, bloodshot from an evident lack of sleep mixed with hours spent with his eyes only inches away from a screen. He was as pale as a sheet, aside from a murking bruise on his cheek, and a cut crossed his bottom lip.

"Hey, Margo," he yawned. He placed the headset on a tray table beside the seat.

"Holden, what happened to you?" Margo asked on the verge of shrieking at him like a frightened mother.

"Y'know, being a kid with bipolar disorder, I have a lot of shitty days, almost all of which are never my fault. Or maybe a few of them are since I don't like taking my meds. But yesterday just happened to be literally the worst day of my entire life. I lost five friends and my crush in the Red Riot, Uncle Carl just got forced into his apartment for days to come, and my mom won't even talk to me since she knows that if she does talk, it'll just be another reminder that I fucked up by joining Psychwatch."

Margo's mouth slowly proceeded to gape open once again. "Your mother did that?" she whispered, gesturing to the injuries on his face.

"Nah. She was super fucking pissed, but she could never hurt me like that. This was from Layla's older brother. Ran into him here yesterday actually. He blamed me for her death because, y'know, fuck Psychwatch."

"Why didn't you tell anybody?"

"Do you really think that in a room of people with missing limbs and shrapnel lodged in their bodies, people would care about some mildly-injured, emotionally unstable idiot who works for Psychwa—"

"Holden, stop it! People do care about you. You're young. It would be unethical not to care about you. The fact you're sitting here with a VR headset is proof that just because you're not hurting physically doesn't mean you're not hurting mentally or emotionally."

Holden raised his hand sheepishly. "Actually," he yawned again, "I just came here with Nikki to get away from home for a while. But she left two hours ago, so now I'm waiting for my dad to come pick me up."

"Holden, how are you so calm about this?"

Holden paused, suddenly lost in thought. "I dunno. I probably got the sadness out last night during one of my manic episodes. Those make it easy to pull all-nighters. But if it makes you feel better, I'm feeling like shit right now."

Margo scoffed. "No, it doesn't make me feel better! You should be at home right now surrounded by loved ones and getting rest!"

Holden shrugged. "Maybe you should, too," he replied.

"I'd rather be here helping out my mom." Margo paused, her phone vibrating in her pocket. "Speaking of which, I gotta go help her out right now. Holden, please get home safely. And remember: people do care about you! Psychwatch cares about you. You make good choices."

"I will," Holden replied, and he formed a small smile as he slumped back into his seat. "Thanks, Margo."

Before Margo could walk away, she offered one final message. "And please keep in contact with Carl. I'm sure your uncle is very worried about you."

"Nah, I'll leave that to you. He prefers you anyway."