100
There was a constant ringing in my head when I finally opened my eyes, the kind of ringing that felt like it was coming from inside my skull. I expected the darkness, that suffocating blackness I’d woken up to before, but there was nothing. Above me, the fluorescent lights buzzed in their dull, sickly white glow, smeared in my vision like streaks of water running down a window. The walls around me were pale, bland, and the light from above only made everything look more washed out. It felt like I was looking through fog, unable to focus on anything clearly. The light, too bright, blending into white and grey stokes as I squinted, vision blurring.
I tried to sit up, but everything around me felt off, unreal. My body didn’t feel like mine. I couldn’t tell if it was the weight of the room pressing in on me or my mind slipping away, but I couldn’t figure out which way was up. My head throbbed relentlessly, pounding in sync with my pulse, every beat making my skull feel like it was about to crack open. The pain in my temples roared louder than any sound, and my eyes burned like fire was crawling under my skin.
I could hear voices, but they weren’t like the hostile whispers that had filled my head earlier. These voices were softer, faint, as though they were coming from far away. They weren’t angry, but they weren’t comforting either. They floated around me, distant and muffled, drifting in and out of clarity like waves crashing and receding on a shore. I strained to hear them, but all I could catch was the odd word here and there.
The last thing I remembered... Clarisa—the screaming I’d done in the hallway. The grip of those girls’ hands around my arms. The voices in my head screaming at me to run, to attack, to escape while I still could. But I hadn’t. Or maybe I had. I didn’t know anymore. It was getting harder to tell what was real and what wasn’t. My hands shaking as I pounded on the door... and then nothing.
A blur. A mess of panic, voices, the feeling of being dragged... But how was I here now? Was this real? Was I still in that nightmare, or was I awake?
My right hand trembled as I lifted it, and I expected to feel the cold, heavy grip of chains around my wrist, but there was nothing. Just the weight of my own hand. I blinked, my vision still foggy, and I rubbed my face, hoping to clear it. But as I brought my hand to my forehead, I saw something that made my stomach twist. The sleeves of the navy-blue shirt I was wearing didn’t look like anything I’d seen before. It was the kind of fit you’d get in a mental institution, the kind you’d wear when you were considered a threat to yourself. My fingers brushed the marks the cuufs in the station had left on me, that had been a reminder of where I’d come from. The bruises were fading now, the marks almost gone. But it didn’t make me feel any less trapped.
What the hell was happening to me?
I rubbed my temples, trying to ground myself, but the ringing wouldn’t stop. The voices around me grew clearer, their words starting to make sense, but they weren’t comforting. They just repeated, a broken record spinning on an endless loop. It was like they were saying everything at once—things that didn’t belong.
Something flickered in my vision. A flash.
The hallway twisted, stretching longer than it should. The floors beneath me turned to something wet, something sticky. The smell of copper filled my nose. Then I was somewhere else.
An elevator door.
I was staring at my reflection, except it wasn’t really me. My eyes were too wide, my pupils swallowed in black. My lips were moving, but I wasn’t speaking. The door slid open, and there was a body inside. Sprawled out. Motionless. Blood spread in a slow pool, creeping toward my feet.
Gunshots. Loud, close, rattling through my bones. I gasped, my hands flying to my ears. But there were no bullets. No gun. The sound was inside my head.
The flash shifted.
The backseat of a car.
A child crying. His little hands covered his face, shoulders shaking with broken sobs. My stomach twisted. My chest ached. I reached out for him, but my fingers passed through him like he wasn’t there. Like he had never been there.
Another flicker.
Adeline.
She was standing over me, her expression unreadable. A bottle in her hand. She pressed it into my palm. I could feel the weight of it, the coolness of the glass against my skin. My throat was dry, burning. My lips parted, but no sound came out.
And then—
White light again. The ceiling above. The buzzing bulbs.
I sucked in a breath, shaking, my fingers curling into the sheets beneath me. I was still here. Wherever here was.
The voices in the room were clearer now, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I blinked hard, over and over, trying to pull myself out of the fog. But the flashes lingered, burnt into my mind like scars I couldn’t scrape away.
The voice came softly at first, floating into my ears like a whisper carried by the wind.
“Eleanor.”
My breath hitched. My fingers dug into my temples as I cupped my head, trying to steady myself. The voice called again, gentle, almost too gentle. My pulse picked up speed, thudding fast against my ribs.
What had been real?
Had I really seen Dominic die?
Had I even been with Dominic at all?
Or had I imagined everything? What if my whole life was nothing but some elaborate illusion crafted inside my own mind? What if I had been mad all along and just hadn’t known?
The voice kept calling. It was closer now, more persistent, but still soft, still like it was trying not to scare me.
Then I felt it.
Two quick taps against my left foot.
I flinched so hard my body reacted before my brain could catch up. My back shot straight, my hands gripping the sheets as I sat up in bed, my chest rising and falling like I had just run for miles. My head snapped around, and suddenly everything was clear.
The fog that had been strangling my mind for hours, maybe days, fucking snapped out of existence, and I saw them.
Three people stood in the room, their faces swimming into focus as the haze lifted.
The first was at the foot of my bed. Sophia.
She looked smaller than she did this morning, shoulders curled in, fingers clutching the hem of her oversized sweater like it was some kind of shield. Her round face was pinched in worry, lips pressed together like she was holding back words she wasn’t brave enough to say.
Her eyes, big and brown, flickered with something uncertain. Then she spoke.
“Hey.” It was shy, barely above a whisper.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
My gaze traveled past her, moving to the other side of the room.
Adeline.
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