He was not exhausted physically, but mentally; his mind was in constant flux, constant challenge and learning, pulled and buffeted by opposing forces. He was split, and yet whole; twin spirits treading in unison through two mirror mazes that threatened to intertwine. The biggest worry was not adapting to Jay Wulf’s life and memories. The biggest worry was in losing his own. He sat on his rented bed, in silence. For the first proper time he let himself think of his home, his real home. No, he didn’t “let” himself. He fought with himself, pushed away the visions of murder and escaped the house
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