I gasp and cling to the rungs, my balance shifting. Four’s cold hand clamps around one of my hips, one of his fingers finding a strip of bare skin just under the hem of my T-shirt. He squeezes, steadying me and pushing me gently to the left, restoring my balance. I pause, staring at my hands, my mouth dry. I feel the ghost of where his hand was, his fingers long and narrow.