Chapter 26 · Mom Isn't Dead

Mom's voice again. Closer this time.

"Layla, baby, I'm right here."

I can't stop moving toward it. I know I shouldn't. I know Kira said don't let anyone in, don't trust the maze, don't believe what I see. But that's Mom's voice. The exact pitch she used when I was ten and scared of thunderstorms. When she'd sit on the edge of my bed and smooth my hair back until I stopped shaking.

The hallway stretches. The walls ripple like heat on asphalt. I don't care.

"Mom?"

My voice cracks. God, I sound like a kid.

The darkness ahead splits. Not a door. Just an opening, like someone tore a hole in black fabric. And there she is.

Mom.

Same dark hair, same small frame, same way she stands with one hip cocked. She's wearing the blue cardigan I buried her in. I remember fighting with the funeral home lady about it. Mom hated stiff clothes. She would've wanted something soft.

"There you are," Mom says, and she smiles.

I'm crying before I realize it. Hot, stupid tears that blur everything.

"You're not real," I say, but I'm already walking faster. "You're not. You died. I saw you. I—