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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.
Clarisa returned, her presence cutting through the storm in my mind, but it was her company that made my heart race even faster. Two girls flanked her, one on her left, one on her right. They were a mess—sweat dripping from their brows, their training outfits stained with blood, their skin flushed and glistening under the fluorescent lights. Their expressions were sharp, hardened by the intensity of the training, but it was the way they eyed me that made my stomach churn.
The air was thick with the oppressive weight of my panic, and it felt like the world was caving in around me. My heart was pounding so loud in my chest I could barely hear anything else. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the walls pressing closer, the floor beneath me seeming to tilt even more. My breath hitched as I felt it—the suffocating grip of anxiety tightening around my throat.
Are they real? Are they here to help me?
I couldn’t trust them. The voices wouldn’t let me trust them. They whispered relentlessly, clawing at my sanity.
Something was done to you. They’re not who they say they are. They want to hurt you. Don’t trust them.
I froze, trembling in place. I heard the rattle of the door handle, and my body jerked toward it, instinctively trying to break through. I twisted the knob, yanking at it with all the strength I had left. The sound of metal clanking against wood was deafening in the silence of the hallway. The door refused to open.
“Are you in there?” I shouted, my voice cracking with desperation. “Somebody? Anyone?”
I pounded against the door with frantic urgency, my fist slamming against the wood so hard it left my knuckles stinging. My chest rose and fell with every breath I tried to take, the air coming in short, painful bursts.
The voices in my head didn’t stop. They grew louder.
You’re stupid. You shouldn’t trust them. Don’t let them near you. They’ve done something to you.
I felt the words clawing through my mind like they were trying to break free. I knew I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t trust anyone. They were playing some kind of game, and I was the pawn.
Clarisa’s voice cut through the chaos, smooth and patient, but something about it only twisted the knife deeper. She stepped forward, the water bottle in her hand a silent offering.
“Drink, Eleanor,” she urged, her voice soft, but I heard the edge, the thinly veiled command beneath it. “You need this.”
But I couldn’t. The very idea made me sick. My heart raced faster as I shoved the bottle away, knocking it out of her hand with a violent swipe. “No!” I screamed, my voice raw, full of terror. “I don’t want it! I don’t need it!”
Tears burned my eyes, hot and uncontrollable. I felt broken, helpless. Each breath felt like I was suffocating, each second stretching longer than the last. The weight of their gazes—their expectations—pressed down on me, suffocating me even further.
The voices screamed in my head.
Look at yourself. Look at what they’ve done to you. You’re insane. You’re in an oversized padded suit like some crazy person. Just like they wanted.
The whispers wouldn’t stop. They tore through my thoughts, relentless, digging into my skin, into my mind, until I couldn’t tell what was real and what was just the mess of noise inside my skull.
You should’ve left. You wanted to leave this morning. What stopped you? They’re going to trap you here. It’s too late now.
I shook my head, but it didn’t matter. The fear clung to me like a second skin, pressing down on my chest, making it harder to breathe.
Clarisa’s face shifted then, the calm slipping away, replaced by something colder. Her jaw clenched, her patience thinning. “Grab her,” she snapped, and the two girls, still standing on either side of her, wasted no time.
They lunged at me, their hands grabbing me with bruising force, fingers digging into my arms like vices. I kicked and screamed, trying to twist away from their grip, but their hold was too strong.
“No! No!” I screamed, thrashing against them, but they didn’t let go.
Clarisa’s eyes were hard now, her voice sharp with command. “Bring her,” she ordered, and the girls obeyed, each of them tightening their grip on my arms, pulling me forward despite my resistance.
I tried to dig my heels into the floor, but they dragged me toward her, my body too weak, my mind too scrambled to fight them off. My slippers—fluffy, stupid slippers—slipped on the floor, my injured foot burning with pain, the bandage tight and uncomfortable.
“Let go of me!” I screamed again, but my voice cracked, breaking in the middle.
We moved in a staggered rush—Clarisa in front, her steps brisk, unhurried—leading the way, as if this was all part of some plan. I couldn’t even fight back anymore. My head was spinning, and I felt like I was being pulled into a nightmare. The voices were still there, screaming, shouting, biting at my every thought.
They’re taking you to the madhouse.
You’re crazy.
This is it.
They’ve trapped you.
Don’t let them take you. Run. RUN.
But I couldn’t move. I was trapped.
The weight of my fear and confusion grew with each step they took, dragging me farther and farther from the door, farther from escape.
And as we reached the end of the hallway, I realized I didn’t know what was real anymore.
This was the end. The start of something worse.
I couldn’t breathe.
****
A/N; Last chapter for the day. Please do drop comments and thoughts as it encourages me to write further. You can also check out my other books while we await a new chapter. Thanks for reading!
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