He leans closer to the lens."I have to hunt. I cannot be distracted by your safety. So, I have secured you. The shutters are bulletproof. The door is sealed with a bio-lock that only responds to my DNA. No one comes in. No one goes out. Not the maids. Not the nurses. Not God himself."
He pauses. His expression softens, just a fraction."Do not panic. There is food in the refrigeration unit. There is music on the server. I will return when the threat is neutralized. Trust the walls, Elodie. They are not keeping you in. They are keeping the war out."
The screen goes black. Then a timer appears.LOCKDOWN ACTIVE: 04:23:12It counts up. Four hours. He has been gone for four hours.
I sink into the chair, staring at the digital numbers.Trust the walls.It is a request that goes against every instinct I have. Walls have always been my enemy. My father’s walls. The conservatory’s walls. The asylum’s walls. But now, with a phantom traitor roaming the halls, the steel shutters feel less like a prison and more like armor.
I stand up and pace. I walk the perimeter of the room. The bedroom. The bathroom. The small dining area. The living space with the fireplace. It is a luxurious cage, but it is a cage. I check the fridge. It is stocked with protein shakes, water, fruit, pre-made meals. Efficient. Survivalist.
I go to the bathroom and shower, washing quickly, feeling exposed even though I am alone. I dress in the riding gear again—the breeches and the boots. It feels like armor. I need to feel tough. I braid my hair tight against my skull.
I try to play the piano—my mental piano. I sit at the table and tap my fingers on the wood, trying to run through Hanon exercises.Click-click-click.But the rhythm is off. My hands are shaking. Paranoia is a cold draft that seeps into my bones. Who is the mole? Is it Dr. Sterling? The nurse with the dead eyes? The orderly who dragged Julian away? Or is it someone I haven't met?
Ding.A sound cuts through the silence. Not the elevator. Not the door. It came from the wall near the fireplace. A service panel.
I freeze, staring at it. A light blinks green on the intercom panel next to the dumbwaiter—a small service lift used for meals and laundry.Buzz.
"Hello?" I whisper, pressing the talk button. "Alaric?"
"Director Graves is unavailable,"a voice replies. It is female. Smooth. Clinical."This is Dr. Sterling. Is that you, Miss Fray?"
My heart skips a beat. Sterling. The woman from the observation room. The one who watched Julian scream without blinking. "How do you know I'm here?" I ask, backing away from the panel.
"I am the Chief of Medicine, dear,"she says, her tone patronizingly sweet."I monitor the vitals of all residents. Your heart rate is 110. You're distressed."
"I'm fine. Alaric put me in lockdown."
"Yes. Code Black. Very dramatic."A pause."He tends to overreact when his favorite toys are threatened. Listen, Elodie. I have a medical override for the service hatch. I need to pass you your medication."
"I don't take medication."
"You do now,"she counters."Dr. Graves authorized a prophylactic sedative. To keep you calm during the crisis. He doesn't want you hurting yourself again."
"I didn't hurt myself."
"You ran into a thunderstorm. You have bruises on your neck. You are unstable. Open the hatch, Elodie. Or do I have to log a refusal of treatment?"
Refusal of treatment. I remember Julian.Reset him. Level 1 protocols.If I refuse, does that give them an excuse to come in? To breach the door?
"I can't open it," I lie. "He locked everything."
"The service hatch has a manual override on your side. Look at the panel. The red lever."
I look. There is a small red lever recessed into the wall. I hesitate. Alaric said:No one comes in. Not even the nurses.But Sterlingis his second-in-command. She was with him during the Julian session. She knows about me.
"Elodie,"Sterling’s voice sharpens."He is currently tearing the East Wing apart looking for a ghost. He is distracted. He needs you to be compliant. Don't make him come back to deal with a difficult patient. He might not be as... gentle... this time."
The threat lands.He might not be gentle.I touch the bruise on my neck. He wasn't gentle last night. He was a force of nature. If I add to his stress...
"Fine," I whisper. "Just pass it through."
I pull the red lever. There is a hiss of hydraulics. The small metal door of the dumbwaiter slides up. It is a box, maybe two feet square. Inside, there is a small paper cup with two pills. And a bottle of water. And a folded piece of paper.
I ignore the pills. I grab the paper. I unfold it. It is a printout. A medical record. But not mine.
Patient Name:Clara S.Admitted:Feb 2023.Discharged:DECEASED(Aug 2023).Cause:"Accidental Fall."Notes:Subject became attached to Director Graves. Attachment was reciprocated. Subject destabilized when boundaries were re-established.
I stare at the paper.Clara.Another girl. Another "favorite."
