achine. A hospital. My head throbbed, a dull, persistent ache.

, working-class house in East Austin. I remembered wanting to be a

e told me I was found coll

ing, but the connection was fuz

. There was only one name: Jocelyn. I didn't recognize it, but a st

he picked up. "What do

was angry,

aid, my own voice sounding stra

t with your pathetic games!

k, but it went straight to voicemail. A

ontact m

ano

been b

rp, black suit entered the room. He introduced himself

bill and take you back to the ranch,"

I said, a sense of unease creepi

pity. "The doctor explained your condition. Partial am

at was supposedly mine, I found a laptop. I opened it, and there it was: a password

votion. Five years of her calling me her "dog," her "charity case," her "disposab

ries back, but it solidified a f

t felt like mine when the bedroom door burst open

ink you're doin

hose face was now linked to so much

ck to the gutter I found you in?" She turned to Mr. Harrison, who stood

expecting me to

alked past her without a w