“That’s not true,” I correct, but the denial sounds hollow even to my own ears.
He keeps his eyes on my body. He was trying to prove to me that I can’t be trusted.
Is he right? Have I lost my shit? Did Maya’s death..
I lean forward despite the straps holding me to the chair. “I want to speak to her.”
He shakes his head again, “That’s not possible, Mr. Lawson.”
I grimace, “That’s convenient. Why not?”
He sets the clip board down onto the table, “Ms. Genovese was just here a few days ago.”
“Why don’t I remember her being here?”
He replies in a monotone manner, “You’ve been mostly sedated since you’ve been here. I doubt you’d even remember your name during those moments.”
A sharp knock cuts through the room before I can respond.
The doctor’s head snaps toward the door. A second later, it opens just enough for a nurse to lean in.
“Dr. Dallas,” she says quietly, but not quietly enough. “She’s here.”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid.
He doesn’t ask who.
His jaw just tightens, eyes flicking briefly to me before he stands from his chair. “Give us a moment,” he says.
The nurse nods and then disappears.
My pulse thunders in my ears. “Who’s here?” I demand, even though I already know.
Dr. Dallas, who I now know the name of, hesitates, then sighs. “Your request.. has been granted. Everleigh Genovese is requesting to see you.”
Both of my hands squeeze into fists at the thought of seeing her again.
“You said that wasn’t possible,” I repeat his own words back to him hoarsely.
“I thought so, but it seems I was wrong.” He gives a quick shake of his head and continues, “And now she’s insisting,” He stands and walks over to the door, opening it wide so that two male nurses can come in.
I don’t say anything else as I’m unclipped from my seat and moved into a wheelchair. One that also has straps on the armrests.
It takes a few minutes for us to get to the next room. The building is huge. Literally every single thing about thisplace seems to be in pristine condition. Not even a skid mark.
It is eery and unsettling.
After being wheeled down what felt like an endless corridor, I’m shoved through a doorway and into a room split cleanly in half by a wall of glass. Identical chairs are arranged along both sides, but my presence disrupts the symmetry. Her presence does as well.
One of the guards drags a chair out of the way, metal legs screeching against the floor, and steers my wheelchair into the narrow gap left behind, boxing me into place.
Chloe.Everleigh.
She leans down in front of the glass, close enough that her breath fogs the clear pane.
“Good to see you, Finnic.”
I flinch slightly at her saying my name.
