I close my eyes, gritting my teeth against the tremors ripping through my body.
I just have to survive. One more night. One more shift. One more breath.
One more.
And another.
And another.
The next morning, Silpha herself comes to the cells.
She never comes down here.
Her heels click like gunshots on the floor. The doors creak open and every head snaps down in a practiced move.
She stops by my bunk.
I don’t lift my head. I don’t speak.
Not because I’m scared.
Because I know how this game works.
She stands there for a long minute, probably cataloging how far I've fallen.
Then her voice cuts through the silence.
“Get up.”
It’s a test.
She wants to see if I can.
I peel myself off the mattress, slow, deliberate.
The fever makes my vision swim. My knees wobble. But I lock them tight and plant my bare feet on the cold floor.
I stand.
Barely.
Silpha’s lips twitch—almost a smile. Cold. Mocking.
“Follow me.”
She doesn’t look back to see if I obey.
I do.
Because I have no choice.
Because whatever comes next—I’ll face it on my feet.
Even if it kills me.
The halls blur as I follow Silpha.
I keep my head down. My hands tremble with every step, but I grind my teeth and make my legs move.
