Time, something that once stood still for me, is now looming all around me. Choices need to be made, and no amount of talking to Feather and Dr. Reynolds has made it easier for me. Because I never had choices before.

Zac and Anna are moving soon, and their invitation to accompany them to New York is still a very intriguing option for me. A new start, away from this town, its memories, and its people, who know every single thing that happened to me, feels like a good choice. I’ve wondered if that means I’m running away…but I don’t think it does. I just want to be Holly, not the Girl in the Hole, but if I stay in this tiny town, that’s who I’m always going to be. There has only been one time in the past year that I have gone out to the store, or to the café, or to the ice cream shop, where someone hasn’t stared at me, whispered about me, or approached me. One time.

And soon I’m going to have a niece. A tiny little person who will only know me as Aunt Holly. I can watch her grow up, experience new things with her, and celebrate all the milestones that I missed in my own life and in my siblings’ lives. She’ll never have to know that once I was stolen. She’ll never look at me with odd, fearful fascination like Lizzie does, still wondering how her dead sister is walking around. I blame my parents for that, and I’ve slowly accepted the growing distance between us. As Ty said, maybe in time that will get better but, for now, I have to make me better.

But going to New York means leaving Tyler. Not breaking up, but leaving our routine, and trying to build a new one. He says he’ll visit, but I know he won’t. He’s not ready to take that step yet. It’s that time thing again—he needs it to gain his confidence back. I’m not sure how happy we’ll be only seeing each other once or twice a month after we’ve been spending almost every day together. We both love our walks, our snuggles on his couch, our hanging out in his workshop, our long talks on his garden bench while Poppy and Boomer play around us. I’m afraid I’ll miss him so much I might be miserable living so far away. Zac suggested that Tyler move to New York too so we can both have a new start, together. But Tyler loves the woods too much. He would go insane in the city, with no forest to walk in and no mountains to explore on his motorcycle. He would be like a caged animal. He can’t live in a place where he will be so totally out of his comfort zone, and I would never want him to. And he could never bring a fox to live in the city. Rehoming Boomer is not an option.

I cross my bedroom and pick up the letter that came last week. I hold it and read it again, for the tenth time perhaps. I almost threw the envelope out when it came, thinking it was some sort of junk mail, but at the last minute I tore it open. My mouth dropped open when I realized it was from a publisher who wants me to write my story so they can publish it. Zac, Anna, and I had a conference call with them a few days ago, and they assured me it could be written by me, with the help of an editor, and they promised not to change my story or words in any way. They even offered me an advance for a surprising amount of money. All I have to do is sign the contract.

Do I want to write my story for the world to read? I’m not sure. I’m trying to get away from everyone knowing who I am and what happened to me. Publishing a book about it puts me right back in that place I don’t want to be in. And if I’m in a relationship with Ty, it puts him in that place with me, because I can’t write my story without including him. What I really want to write is children’s fairy tales, like the ones that filled my days with hopes and dreams. That’s what the world needs to read, not stories about little girls getting kidnapped. Anna suggested I approach the publisher with that idea, and I just might, once I get my thoughts together about it.

Another choice to make, on top of all the others.

I pull one of my old books out of my backpack and thumb through the worn, dirty, faded pages. In these stories, there aren’t any hard choices. Everything somehow magically works out. I turn to the last page, where the couple is walking happily in the distance together, and I touch them with my finger. Maybe the happily ever after just doesn’t happen, after all.