106
My breath was uneven, coming in short, trembling gasps as I stared at Sophia, the flickering red light making her face twist in and out of view, shadows curling around her features like something out of a nightmare. My hands were cold. The sweat on my palms made my fingers feel sticky, the dampness clinging between them when I curled my hand into a fist, then opened it again, trying to ground myself, trying to ignore the way my stomach turned over itself like I’d swallowed something rotten.
Sophia’s lips parted like she wanted to say something, then she stopped, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard. She glanced away for a second, her hand slipping from mine completely, the warmth of her palm disappearing too quickly, and even though I wasn’t scared of her, wasn’t scared of what she had just said, the absence of her touch made something crawl up the back of my neck, the kind of awareness that told me I was alone, that if she let go completely, I wouldn’t know what the hell I was doing here anymore.
The red light flickered on again, buzzing softly like an old television struggling to stay alive, and I saw her face more clearly this time. Her eyes glistened like they were wet, her lower lip trembling just slightly before she pressed it between her teeth, biting down hard enough that for a second, I thought she’d break the skin. She turned her head slowly, like it hurt to move, and I followed her gaze before I even realized it, my own chest pulling tight when I finally saw where we were standing.
The door.
The one from earlier.
My stomach twisted so violently that I thought I was going to be sick.
I didn’t realize I had taken a step back until my heel knocked against the uneven floor, sending a pulse of something sharp up my ankle. I barely noticed the pain. The memory was clearer than I wanted it to be, the sound of the banging against the door, the weight of Clarissa’s stare as she looked at me and told me I had imagined it, that there was nothing, that I was hearing things, that I was crazy.
Crazy.
I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what I was going to say, and Sophia was already turning back to me, shaking her head, the movement too stiff, too forced, like she was trying to shake something off her shoulders.
The light flickered again.
She was looking at me, but it was like she wasn’t really seeing me, her eyes unfocused, staring at some point past my face, past this place.
She said it then.
That none of them could ever leave.
That they had nowhere to go back to.
That the organization had destroyed their families.
I felt my whole body go still.
A coldness that started in my stomach spread outward, crawling up my spine like something alive, something with claws that sank into my skin and refused to let go. My ears started to ring, or maybe the sound was coming from the hallway, that awful buzzing hum of the broken light, the way it kept clicking in and out, like even it didn’t want to exist in this place any longer than it had to.
I wanted to say I misheard her, but I knew I hadn’t.
I wanted to say she was lying, but I could see the way her hands were trembling at her sides, the way her fingers twitched like she wanted to grab onto something, hold onto anything before she completely unraveled.
Every single girl here.
Taken.
Their families gone.
Nothing to return to.
A lie.
Everything I thought I knew.
The red light flickered off again, and this time the darkness stayed longer, stretching out into something endless, and I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until the light flickered back on and I was suddenly gasping, sucking in air that felt too thick, too heavy in my lungs.
I turned back to Sophia, and my voice came out cracked when I forced out the only question I could manage.
“What are you saying?”
She didn’t answer me right away.
Instead, she turned back to the door, her lips parting again, but no words came out.
I thought of the sound from earlier, the banging, the way my whole body had locked up when I heard it, the way my hands had started to shake before I even knew why.
Clarissa told me there was nothing.
She told me I had heard nothing.
I thought of every moment I had been here, every doubt that had crawled into my head, every second I had spent wondering if I was going insane.
And then Sophia finally spoke, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper, but her words were a blade sliding into my ribs.
“That’s what they do,” she said.
I swallowed, but my throat was too dry, and the lump in it didn’t move.
“They try to make you believe you’re crazy.”
The light flickered off again, and the darkness swallowed us whole.
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