“Subject Zero-Three is exhibiting self-harm behaviours.”
I grin, blood on my teeth. “You noticed.”
“Cease immediately.”
“No.”
Silence stretches, taut.
Then: “Why?”
I breathe hard, fists aching, heart loud in my chest. “Because if you don’t see me,” I say, “I’ll make marks you can’t ignore.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
I feel Silas settle, solid and calm. I feel Donnelly burn, defiant and alive.
They haven’t erased us.
They’ve proven something instead.
We exist best when pushed to the edge.
The room remains grey. Empty. Silent.
But now, it’s watching.
And that means I’ve won something.
I lie back down, fists throbbing, identities intact, and wait.
Night is coming.
I can feel it.
DELIA FUCKING SMITH
Let’s Go To Hell - Bhones
Kookaburra
Iswing one leg in a lazy arc and grin at her like a cat with blood on its whiskers. “Don’t you know what it means?”
“I…” She presses her lips together, adjusting her glasses like that’s going to give her a better view of my brain. Spoiler: it won’t.
“You say I’m not a prisoner here, right?” I ask, flipping upright with a groan and folding myself cross-legged on the cushion like a polite little psychopath.
Doctor Callaway sighs, already tired of where this is heading. “We’ve been over this, Kayla. You’renota prisoner.”
“Right,” I nod, wide-eyed. “So why is there nothing to do?”
She blinks at me. “To…do?”
“Yeah. Activities. Something between ‘wake up’ and ‘be sedated for bedtime.’ You know, hobbies.”
“You…have hobbies?” she asks carefully, like she’s tiptoeing through a minefield with a clipboard and a superiority complex.
“I guess.” I shrug. “I like fucking. Fucking shit up. Taking fucking lives.”
