98

I staggered back, my vision swimming, my head pounding like a drumbeat I couldn’t escape. The walls of the hallway started to tilt, swaying like they were made of paper, and I grabbed at my temples, feeling the pressure build like my skull might crack open at any moment. My fingers shook uncontrollably, my nails scraping my scalp as if I could physically stop the flood of chaos inside my head.

Calm down. Breathe.

But it wasn’t working. The air around me felt thick, suffocating. Every breath was a struggle, sharp and ragged, like I was trying to inhale through a thin straw. My chest tightened, and the ground beneath my feet felt like it was shifting, pulling away. My body swayed with it, my balance betraying me. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, louder than anything else, deafening.

And then, the whispers came.

They were soft at first, so faint I wasn’t sure if I was imagining them. But as my breath hitched, the voices grew, like soft currents curling around me, echoing in the back of my mind. They were there, hovering just behind my ears, like a swarm of whispers only I could hear.

She’s lying. You know she’s lying. You didn’t tell them. You didn’t. But what if you did?

I froze, the voices invading my thoughts, drowning out everything else. I could hear them, each word cutting through me like a knife. But they weren’t my thoughts. They were their thoughts. The people inside my head, the ones who whispered things I couldn’t control.

And then, beyond the voices, the sounds of the training room pierced through my fraying sanity. The rhythm of the girls’ feet hitting the floor, their voices blending in with the thudding of punches and the creaking of the floorboards. Every small noise—the shuffling of feet, the slap of skin against the mat—seemed amplified, turned up a thousand times, like I was hearing everything in the world at once.

The sound of shoes against the floorboard—clack, clack, clack—felt like it was echoing in my brain, over and over, so loud, so sharp, that I had to squeeze my eyes shut to block it out. Stop. Just stop!

But the noise didn’t stop.

Clarisa’s voice broke through the chaos, smooth and soothing in the way she always spoke, but it didn’t make anything better. If anything, it made it worse. She stepped forward, close now, and her hands came up to settle on my shoulders, her touch gentle, like she was trying to steady me. But it only made my pulse race faster.

“Eleanor, sweetie… do you not remember?”

I shook my head violently, my eyes wide, trying to ignore the dizziness, trying to clear the fog in my mind. No. No, this isn’t happening. This isn’t real.

She continued, her voice carrying a strange tenderness that seemed too sweet, too calm. “The night we broke you out of that prison… you told us about your schizophrenia. You said it was getting worse.”

My heart slammed against my chest, the world spinning faster now. No, no, no. The words scraped against my thoughts, digging deeper, festering.

“I… I didn’t—” My voice trembled as I tried to deny it. But then the doubt hit me. The deep, gnawing uncertainty. Did I?

My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. “I—No. I didn’t,” I muttered, shaking my head again. “I would never tell you—never. Not about that.”

But even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. My thoughts scrambled, jumbled, like pieces of a puzzle I couldn’t put together. What if I had? What if in some moment of weakness, I had told them?

I tried to take a slow breath, but my chest felt like it was being crushed under a weight. Focus, Eleanor. Breathe. Just breathe.

But I couldn’t stop thinking. Couldn’t stop the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I had mentioned it. Maybe I had let it slip. It was all becoming too much. The voices, the noise, the doubt…

I pressed my hands to my face, my breath catching in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut harder, trying to block it all out. It’s not real. None of this is real. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you.

But as I opened my eyes again, the sound of breathing behind the door hit me.

It was faint at first, but undeniable, right there. Close. So close it felt like the air around me shifted. I’m hallucinating. It’s just my mind again.

My breath grew faster, shallow now, panic clawing at my chest, a gnawing fear sinking in. But my mind screamed in protest—No, it’s real. You heard it. You heard it too, didn’t you?

I couldn’t stop it. The voices swirled around me, growing louder, pushing me further into the corner of my own mind.

Is it real? Is it real?

Clarisa suddenly moved, retreating quickly into the training room, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left me standing there, frozen, paralyzed in the chaos of my mind. The second she left, the room felt even smaller, the noise more intense, the air heavier.

I could feel every breath that came in and out of my lungs—each one like a jagged shard of glass, sharp and painful. My skin prickled, and I swore I could feel every heartbeat vibrating through my veins.

The noises continued, surrounding me, suffocating me. Every rustle of fabric, every breath from the girls in the training room, every creak of the floorboards, every whispered voice inside my head, all blending into a deafening symphony I couldn’t escape from.

I kept telling myself, It’s not real. None of it is real. You’re just imagining it. It’s all in your head.

But the weight of the voices—You’re crazy. You’re imagining everything. Don’t trust yourself.—was crushing me, suffocating me from the inside. I couldn’t tell what was real anymore.

The world spun, my mind spiraling out of control. I wanted to scream, to run, to escape from it all, but my legs felt like they were made of stone. My breaths were shallow, frantic. The room felt like it was closing in on me, and I was drowning in it, suffocating under the weight of it all.

Please, just make it stop.

I staggered back, my vision swimming, my head pounding like a drumbeat I couldn’t escape. The walls of the hallway started to tilt, swaying like they were made of paper, and I grabbed at my temples, feeling the pressure build like my skull might crack open at any moment. My fingers shook uncontrollably, my nails scraping my scalp as if I could physically stop the flood of chaos inside my head.

Calm down. Breathe.

But it wasn’t working. The air around me felt thick, suffocating. Every breath was a struggle, sharp and ragged, like I was trying to inhale through a thin straw. My chest tightened, and the ground beneath my feet felt like it was shifting, pulling away. My body swayed with it, my balance betraying me. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, louder than anything else, deafening.

And then, the whispers came.

They were soft at first, so faint I wasn’t sure if I was imagining them. But as my breath hitched, the voices grew, like soft currents curling around me, echoing in the back of my mind. They were there, hovering just behind my ears, like a swarm of whispers only I could hear.

She’s lying. You know she’s lying. You didn’t tell them. You didn’t. But what if you did?

I froze, the voices invading my thoughts, drowning out everything else. I could hear them, each word cutting through me like a knife. But they weren’t my thoughts. They were their thoughts. The people inside my head, the ones who whispered things I couldn’t control.

And then, beyond the voices, the sounds of the training room pierced through my fraying sanity. The rhythm of the girls’ feet hitting the floor, their voices blending in with the thudding of punches and the creaking of the floorboards. Every small noise—the shuffling of feet, the slap of skin against the mat—seemed amplified, turned up a thousand times, like I was hearing everything in the world at once.

The sound of shoes against the floorboard—clack, clack, clack—felt like it was echoing in my brain, over and over, so loud, so sharp, that I had to squeeze my eyes shut to block it out. Stop. Just stop!

But the noise didn’t stop.

Clarisa’s voice broke through the chaos, smooth and soothing in the way she always spoke, but it didn’t make anything better. If anything, it made it worse. She stepped forward, close now, and her hands came up to settle on my shoulders, her touch gentle, like she was trying to steady me. But it only made my pulse race faster.

“Eleanor, sweetie… do you not remember?”

I shook my head violently, my eyes wide, trying to ignore the dizziness, trying to clear the fog in my mind. No. No, this isn’t happening. This isn’t real.

She continued, her voice carrying a strange tenderness that seemed too sweet, too calm. “The night we broke you out of that prison… you told us about your schizophrenia. You said it was getting worse.”

My heart slammed against my chest, the world spinning faster now. No, no, no. The words scraped against my thoughts, digging deeper, festering.

“I… I didn’t—” My voice trembled as I tried to deny it. But then the doubt hit me. The deep, gnawing uncertainty. Did I?

My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. “I—No. I didn’t,” I muttered, shaking my head again. “I would never tell you—never. Not about that.”

But even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. My thoughts scrambled, jumbled, like pieces of a puzzle I couldn’t put together. What if I had? What if in some moment of weakness, I had told them?

I tried to take a slow breath, but my chest felt like it was being crushed under a weight. Focus, Eleanor. Breathe. Just breathe.

But I couldn’t stop thinking. Couldn’t stop the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I had mentioned it. Maybe I had let it slip. It was all becoming too much. The voices, the noise, the doubt…

I pressed my hands to my face, my breath catching in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut harder, trying to block it all out. It’s not real. None of this is real. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you.

But as I opened my eyes again, the sound of breathing behind the door hit me.

It was faint at first, but undeniable, right there. Close. So close it felt like the air around me shifted*. I’m hallucinating. It’s just my mind again.*