I gulp down a mouthful of sorrow.They’re trapped too… Of course they are.
Regardless of how any of us got here, or where we’re currently standing, we’realltrapped by The Ivory in one way or another.
Byron is visibly distraught over the sight of a now unconscious Hancock. It reminds me of when I watched him leaving the prison the other day, coming from his meeting with Velle…
Trevel Fenwick isn’t evil. He’s just playing the part because he feels like hehasto.
He needs to beevilto explain away the things he’s done. Otherwise, he’s responsible for them. I’m speaking from personal experience here.
Been there, done lots of that.
Despondence weighs me in place while I stand, staring through the wall at the love of my life. Trapped mere feet from me. And I just can’t get to him.
Dropping my forehead to the shelf, I brush my fingers over the books, heart splitting down the middle.
Fuck, Lem…
Baby, I’m here.
I’m right… here.
Lips parted, I’m without a voice. I can’t speak. Iwantto, but I can’t cough them up.
I could scream and rage. Bash my way through this wall of books and burst in there. I see it in my mind…
Slicing them all open. Every single one… Spilling their blood in waves to get him back.
But I don’t. I stand still and bite my tongue.
I have to do this right.
Iwill notdie trying to save him.I refuse.
I haven’t come this far just to fall apart when I get close. And Iamclose. I can feel it.
Trevel stomps off in the direction The Ivory just went, but Byron stays behind, lingering at Officer Hancock’s side until they pick him up and carry him away to God knows where.
Byron’s eyes shift to my fiancé, shining with obvious regret. “I’m—”
“Let’s go…Dr. Strange.” Hassan grabs Lemuel by the arm, lugging him away, effectively cutting off whatever Byron was about to say, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess.
He’s sorry…
Shivers rack my limbs as the dipshit doctor shoves my fiancé out of the room.
Where is he taking him??
“Where’s he taking him?” Byron asks Johansson quietly, tone indifferent, though I can tell he cares. He wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t.
“We’ll be resuming our work,” Johansson says. “Warden’s orders.”
Byron looks confused.
But I’m not. I know exactly what he means.
The experiments.
They’re going to torture Lem, just like they did to me, and countless others. The East Wing may be gone, but the sadistic fucks behind it are very much still present.
