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Brittany's POV The visage that had tormented me for six years was before me. It had inhabited my nightmares and infiltrated my conscious thoughts, propelling me to the brink of sanity. My breath caught in my throat, prompting me to take a hesitant step backward. No, it cannot be her. It must not be her. This has to be an illusion, an absurd impersonation. It simply has to be. I felt a tremor run through me as I sat, beads of sweat streaming down my forehead. I wiped them away with my hands, my breathing becoming increasingly irregular. How could Wendy possibly be alive? She could not be the notorious Whitney Decodes. There is no conceivable way that is true. While I recall Wendy's fondness for technology, who would have imagined that she had either perished or vanished, only to em
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