“What’s the catch?”
“Supervision. A controlled area.”
I smile. “And here I thought you were going to say a shock collar.”
“Would that motivate you?”
“Depends who’s holding the remote.” I wink.
The faintest twitch of her mouth. I file that away. Shecansmile; she just doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction.
“Tomorrow,” she says, turning toward the door. “Try to rest. Eat something. And no more dismantling the camera.”
I glance at the corner where the replacement lens blinks, pristine and smug. “Tell your tech boys to hide it better next time.”
She leaves without replying. The door seals with a hiss that sounds too much like laughter.
The room hums again.
Time thickens.
I pace.
I count the tiles.
I hum the kookaburra song under my breath until it turns into something else – something lower, darker.
Three days since I woke up here. Three days of observation, of pills that dull the edges, of polite conversations that mean nothing.
Tomorrow, I’ll get out of this room.
They think that means progress.
It doesn’t. It meansopportunity.
And if Doctor Callaway thinks she’s the one taking notes on me, she’s in for a rude fucking awakening.
WE EXIST BEST WHEN PUSHED TO THE EDGE
Centuries - Fall Out Boy
Ghost
They don’t call me by my name. Not Silas. Not Donnelly. Not even Ghost.
They call me Subject Zero-Three, and the way they say it tells me everything I need to know about what this room is for.
I wake into nothing.
Not darkness – darkness is something. Darkness presses back.
This is absence. Especially absence of memory. A pale, indefinite grey that has no edge, no texture, no distance. I can’t tell where the walls are because there’s nothing for my eyes to grab hold of.
I’m lying on something flat. Hard. Not uncomfortable, not comfortable either. Neutral.
They’ve taken the shadows,Donnelly observes calmly.
Good. That meanshe’sawake too.
