Page 65 of Stay Scared

A speaker activates overhead.

Owen’s recorded voice surrounds me. “You look at the door before you sit down.”

Another speaker takes over. “You save the cruel messages.”

A third voice comes from near the floor. “You skip meals when the numbers fall.”

The observations jump around the shrinking corridor, his stolen knowledge turned into a voice I can’t escape.

“Kill the audio.”

“I can’t reach it.”

His real voice sounds farther away.

The padding presses against my shoulder, and I turn again to protect the injured side.

“Salem, keep answering me.”

“I’m still here.”

My voice comes thinner than I want as the wall advances another inch.

Owen hits the panel between us. “Tell me if I can touch you.”

“If you can reach me, you can touch me.”

Metal strains beside my left shoulder. A narrow gap opens, and Owen’s hand comes through first.

I catch his wrist. His glove is cold against my palm.

I drag his hand through the opening and place it against my ribs above my waist. “Keep your hand here.”

His fingers close immediately, firm enough that I can tell exactly where he is even when I can’t see him.

The wall shifts again.

“Move toward me.”

Owen forces one shoulder between the panels. His blank mask strikes the padding beside my head, and the opening is barely wide enough for him.

My jacket snags in the seam.

“The jacket caught.”

“Where?”

“Behind my shoulder.”

His hand clamps harder around my side as I twist. Fabric stretches behind me.

“Try again.”

I turn into him. The jacket tears loose, and Owen drags me through.

I collide with the front of his body. Hard coat buttons, the utility clip at his waist, and the rigid edge of his belt press into me before his other arm closes around my upper back. The wall seals over the space I occupied a second earlier, and Owen turns until his back takes the advancing panel.

The blank mask stops inches from my face.