Page 63 of I’ll Find You

Cold. That's the first thing I notice when I come to. It's bone-deep, seeping into me before anything else makes sense. I try to move, but I can't. Something bites into my wrists and ankles. My chest rises in shallow breaths as I struggle to pull air into my lungs. The air smells wrong. Clean. Warm vanilla drifts through the room. It's the last thing I expected.

My head throbs. My vision blurs with slow pulses behind my eyes. I blink. Once. Twice as the world comes back to me into bits and pieces. There are wood-paneled walls that are not rough, but finished and polished, and a soft rug lies beneath my feet. A small lamp is glowing on a side table instead of a harsh overhead light, casting warm, honey-colored shadows across the room. There’s a couch with a knitted blanket folded neatly over the arm. A bookshelf is lined with paperbacks, some stacked sideways having been read more than once. A framed photo on the wall is hanging, but it’s too far away to make out. It’s all so personal.

It doesn't look like somewhere people hide bodies. It looks lived in.Then I see something that gives me pause. A scream lodges in my throat when I see the same bear that Maxwell has in his bedroom. The one where I swear I saw a fingernail, a chain, and an earring tucked behind a seamless layer.

My clothes cling to me, cold despite the warmth of the room. I shiver violently as I test the straps around my wrists, but they don't give. The restraints bite into my wrists as panic surges through me. I see movement across the room. My eyes snap upward to the bed. At first, there's nothing remarkable about it. Then I see the two figures lying there.

My vision swims before finally sharpening. Maxwell and Lucinda. They're handcuffed to the bed frame. For a second, my brain refuses to believe it. Not in a place like this. Maxwell’s head has fallen forward, shoulders slack. Lucinda is curled slightly on her side, wrist pulled tight as her breathing seems shallow, but there as I see the rise and fall of her chest. Relief floods me that they’re alive. Then something worse hits me.

“Maxwell?” My voice comes out rough and scratchy. His head jerks slightly. Slowly, he lifts it.

“Rose?”

Lucinda sits next to him. A whimper escapes her as she stirs, the chain rattling against the bed frame.

“What—” I swallow hard, my throat dry. “What's this?” Neither of them answers. My gaze drifts around the room again. The space is neat. Nothing is out of place except us. Someone lives here. Every detail has been chosen on purpose. Whoever brought us here never planned on letting us leave. A sound behind me breaks the silence. My entire body goes still. My breath catches halfway in as I brace for whoever is about to step through the door.

The warmth of the room only makes the cold clinging to my wet clothes feel worse. My body trembles uncontrollably. We were brought here to die. I know it now. Whoever brought us here never intended for any of us to leave alive.

It’s the campus killer. The sound comes first, then footsteps. They are unhurried as the door opens. Dr. Somersworth steps inside. Maxwell jerks upright, the chain rattling against the metal frame, the sound settling over us like a bad omen.

“Dad—” His voice cracks. It sounds raw and desperate. “Dad, what the hell is this?” Dr. Somersworth doesn’t answer right away, just closes the door calmly behind him, much as he would in his office, or entering a patient consult room. “Please,” Maxwell pushes, struggling against the cuffs. “Just let me go. I won’t say anything. I swear. I won't.”

“Stop.” The one word is loud and commanding, silencing all other sounds and causing Maxwell to freeze. Dr. Somersworth looks at him. Not as a father, but as something else. A burden perhaps. “You’re making this more difficult than it has to be,” he says, lacking any fatherly tone.

“More difficult?” Maxwell chokes out a laugh. “You kidnapped me!”

Lucinda lets out a small, broken sound beside him. “What…what is this?” she whispers, but it echoes in the room, carrying with it the scared woman beside his son, but he just ignores her. His gaze moves past them and over to me. Then past me.

“Her,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. I hear footsteps behind me, but I don't turn. Somehow, I already know who it is.

Chelsea steps into view. Calm. Composed. Unlike the rest of us, she isn't restrained.

“Hey,” she says softly, as though nothing is wrong.

Maxwell stares at her. Confusion hits first, then disbelief. “Chelsea?”

She tilts her head slightly, watching him. “I didn’t want it to be this way,” she says. And finally she says something that sounds like she means it.

“What are you talking about?” he snaps as panic breaks through more than rational thought. “Just unlock these, and we can figure this out⁠—”

“No,” she says gently. And that one word makes him stop abruptly, shocking him completely. Silence stretches, and then she exhales. “I’ve been lying,” she says simply. She holds her hand in front of her.

My stomach drops. Maxwell shakes his head immediately.

“No. No this is. What is this? Some kind of⁠—”

“I don’t have a family,” she continues, as if he didn’t just speak. “Not really. Well, not like you guys, anyway.” Her eyes move to Dr. Somersworth, then back. “He’s the only one I’ve ever had.” The room goes impossibly still. Maxwell's face drains of color.

“What…”

Dr. Somersworth steps forward. There’s almost something proud in the way he stands beside her. “She’s mine,” he says.

Maxwell stares at them both disbelievingly. “No,” he breathes out. “No, that is not⁠—”

“It is,” Chelsea says softly. She lets it linger, filling the air in contemplative silence. “I’m your sister.”

The word hits like a punch. Maxwell recoils, the chain clattering loudly as he jerks back. “That’s not funny,” he snaps. “That’s not—” His nostrils flare. “Just stop the lies.”