“They do,” I cry, hitting the side of my head. “They’re both in here.”
“Little doe,” he says on a breath so low it barely moves his lips. “You do not need anyone else. You are strong on your own. Keep your head clean, your limbs ready.”
“I do. I need Kane, and he doesn’t know about our baby.”
“Kane’s dead.”
“He’s not. It’s a trick,” I whisper. “Nobody knows him like I do. They don’t know he can lie. He’s done it before.”
“He’s dead. I was there when the order was given.”
“No.” I push his deceitful hand away. “You didn’t see him die, so he’s alive.”
No one knows what they’re talking about. Only I do. I have my memories of everything, so I know Kane is tricking them like he did to me. I know he’s doing it to keep Rowan away from me, that’s why Rowan hasn’t been here.
If Kane was dead, he’d be torturing me again. He’s not, so it’s not fucking true.
Lennox straightens to his full height, sighing as though he has more to say. He holds his finger in front of his lips as he carefully walks between the maze of bunks to a shadowed corner. His dark suit makes him blend into them as a young boy enters the room, barely sixteen years old even though his eyes are harsh. They soften slightly when he sees me and he moves from foot to foot as he grips his nape. “Are you crying?”
I shake my head.
“It’s time for you to move,” he says, brushing his dark blond hair away from his face. Despite the harshness in his eyes, there’s a kindness to them. He doesn’t move until I get up from the bed, limping towards him, but his eyes are fixed on the bunk I left.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
“That was Xanthe’s,” he says low in his throat, continuing to stare at the bed.
“Who’s Xanthe?” I ask, hoping he isn’t a guard.
“My mother.”
“I’m sorry.”
My condolences tear his attention away from the bunk. He shakes his thoughts away before smiling at me. “What’s your name?”
“Delilah.”
“I’m Jasper. We don’t normally get new people your age. Were you a live-in?”
“What’s a live-in?”
He walks me out of the room into the strangest corridor I’ve ever been in. The walls are a soft black, stopping any light reflecting off them like they’re lined with suede. There’s a thin strip of light lining the corners where the floor and walls meetwith different closed doors leading away from them, but the lights act like a barrier over the threshold.
“You don’t know?” He looks at me like he can see me in the low lights. “Where did you come from?”
“I…don’t know.”
I don’t think he’ll be open with me if he knows my family has contributed to this perverse club. In the time I’ve been here, in between escaping to visit my family, I’ve been able to work out what it is. How it works is a different matter altogether, considering the people who visit the rooms are always masked so I can’t ask them questions.
I’m in a sex club, the opposite of X, which revolved around mutual pleasure and consent. This place needs depravity to run. It’s not about physical gratification, but mental damnation. The mirrored rooms I’ve been forced into have all been a form of mental torture and the doors only open when I’m on the verge of passing out.
Jasper guides me to a large canteen full of noise. People eating, talking, drinking. Normal noises without any screams. It reminds me of being in school with the long rectangular tables, other than them being color-coded.
Red, blue, yellow, orange, pink, purple, grey, black, and one steel table, reflecting the harsh lights up.
The red table is nearly full, all twelve seats taken by bodies littered in scars. Whereas the blue one—the liveliest—has five empty seats. Yellow sit there, moving their food around their plates as they drink water. Orange do the same, wincing as they drink. Pink has the youngest people in the room. Little boys and girls whose feet don’t even reach the floor. A little boy kicks his feet in the air as he holds the girl’s hand sitting beside him. They look alike, similar ages too, but the boy is smaller. Purple are only slightly older, not by much. Grey has the least amount of members, four of them who don’t interact with each other apartfrom a girl who glares at me as I walk behind Jasper. She doesn’t stop until we pass the black table where one boy is trying to feed himself, but his arm shakes, causing him to spill his food. The steel table is deathly silent other than their labored breathing as they stare wide-eyed into air.
Jasper nods to the plate rack as he whispers, “You need to get your own food.”
