Searching the room for something,anythingthat breaks up the empty grey expanse, I catch the glint of a nail lodged in the side of thewall.
It’s crooked.
I start to wonder if there are any other nails dug into these walls, but the second my gaze deviates from the target, my breaths gain speed. The walls return to their crushing blur, crawling towards me.
I snap back to the nail.
A unique form of entrapment overtakes my senses while more tears drip down my cheeks.
Using the sleeve of my dress to smear the blood oozing from my temple, I keep my eyes wide and clear, locked on my nail. My very still, immobile nail that will not close in on me.
I feel like I’m dying.
Its bright silver hue shines against the gray.
I’ll never make it out alive.
But it’s not moving. I am sure of it.
I can barely breathe.
Do not blink.
Mikhail
I’ve never run so fast.
I sprint through the hall, passing the bedroom, the kitchen island, yet all I can see is the confused terror playing out across Cassandra’s face as I pulled her from sleep. The anxious shock of being thrown into the holding cell. The last shove against the door, her weight pressed to the other side. The click of the deadbolt.
I smack my hand against the elevator button, throwing myself haphazardly through the barely-open doors. Ivan is the only one who manages to slip in beside me before I slam the button to shut the entrance.
Five seconds have never lasted so long.
I have no idea what I could possibly say to her after how I acted, locking her in a room for hours.
She has no business forgiving me.
I need to get to her nonetheless.
I’m climbing between the doors as they open. Ivan trails somewhere behind, but all I can think about is getting to her. She’s probably scared. She’s definitely pissed.
My key ring rattles against the door. Clawed points shove into the rusted bolt.
The lock loosens. The door creaks open. Something that feels a whole lot like fear seeps into my stomach.
The first thing I see is the bright red of fresh blood.
It seems like it’s fucking everywhere, and it stops me in my tracks, Ivan slamming into my back from his momentum. It seems to be originating from a small puddle on the ground, but tracks of footprints swarm the room, forming nonsensical, overlapping patterns across the space. How did she get hurt?
Cassandra is curled up into a ball against the back wall, but she doesn’t even spare us a glance, her unmoving eyes gazing at something in front of her. With a few gentle steps in, I twist to see what she’s looking at, but all I see is a small hole in the large, plain wall.
When she doesn’t flinch from my approach, I walk closer, my heart breaking at the small gash on her forehead. I just want to hold her in my arms and make her feel all better. Kiss her soft neck like I did last night and tuck her into bed.
But those are privileges I may never see again.
“Cassandra?” I call out, but she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even seem to notice me.
What happened to her in here?
