Fight them.

Fight him.

She tried to crawl toward the cave opening.

"No." He grabbed her by the waist. "It's over, Megan."

Mama.

"Stop it." His face contorted with pain. "She can't help you any longer. And I'm not sure I can do it either."

Mama.

"Don't do this. I told her I wouldn't promise to-"

Mama!

"Dammit, Megan, you have to stay with me." He backhanded her across the face.

Darkness.

But the voices were still there, gnawing at her sinews, devouring her.

"Okay, I can't take it anymore," he whispered. "You win, Megan. Or maybe Sarah wins." His hands grasped her arms, holding her still. "I'm going to shut you down. Don't fight me. I'm not going to hurt you. You're just going to go to sleep and I'll take the voices away."

She opened her eyes to look dazedly up at him. "What…"

"Shh." He gently brushed her hair back from her forehead. "You wanted help. I'm going to give it to you. You won't remember the voices, the pain, any of this." His lips tightened. "I wish to God I was that lucky."

CHAPTER ONE

Twelve years later

St. Andrews Hospital

Atlanta, Georgia

"HE'S DEAD, MEGAN. CALL IT," Scott Rogan said as he looked at her over the body of the fourteen-year-old boy. "Give it up."

"Tell that to his mother." She hit the paddles again to try to jumpstart the boy's heart. Come on, Manuel. Come back to us. "I'm not going to do it without a fight."

"We've been working on him for the last twenty minutes."

"Then another few won't make a difference." She counted to three and then hit him again. "Live, Manuel," she whispered. "You have so much to do, so much to see. Don't let it end like this."

But it had ended, she realized in helpless frustration after another two minutes. Dammit to hell. Poor kid.