The Blackthorne tech was a young Hispanic woman in a white coat, the picture of seriousness and detachment. She flicked the end of the syringe.

“Right arm,” she said.

“What are you giving me?” I rolled up my sleeve.

“B vitamins.” She gave me the shot with painful precision. I felt as if I was in the army again.

“Ventrogluteal’s safer.”

“I’ll mention it to management.” She collected her tray and left.

They put me in the same black room I tested in, which was comforting in a way. But the slide choices and the clickers were absent. In its place were a comfortable chair, a table with a soft lamp, and a bottle of water.

“Caden?” a voice came over the speaker.

“Good morning, Ronin.”

“I just came by to say it’s great to have you.”

“Thank you.”

“Lee reviewed how you do it, right?”

“In-out, in-out. Been doing it my whole life.”

“The pacing is important,” he said. “And the depth of the breath.”

“This isn’t meditation, is it?”

“Not quite.”

“Because I don’t have time for woo-woo bullshit, okay?”

“This is not woo-woo bullshit.”

“All right then.” I grasped the arms of the chair and the lamp dimmed.

Ronin was replaced by a woman’s recorded voice. She repeated the same two syllables over and over.

Soo-hoo.

“This is ridiculous,” I grumbled.

Soo-hoo.

“She’s like a mating bird.”

The speaker clicked on, and another voice came over the cooing woman. “Just try to relax.”

Fine.

I would relax.

For Greyson.

I could do this for Greyson twice a week. I’d given up too much to be in that room, and half a self-conscious effort wouldn’t reward my sacrifice or hers.

Soo-hoo.

I breathed in at soo and out at hoo, starting over without holding either inhale or exhale.

Soo-hoo.

The voice faded into the hiss of my breath, folding like a map into my consciousness.

Soo-hoo. Soo-hoo. Soo-hoo.

Something inside me trembled.

And shook.

And tried to break but couldn’t.

On the fourth session, I came to a terrifying well of despair, but the tape stopped and the light went bright before I touched it.

It always did.