The walls are an unsettling shade of white, and the sterile scent of disinfectant floods over me in waves as I step into the corridor.
With each passing second, the room seems to shrink, the walls slowly but surely closing in on me. He keeps talking as he walks a few steps ahead, Draven trailing behind and listening intently. Neither of them pays me much attention, expecting me to follow and listen to what they’re saying.
I’m not. The sterile sense of the corridor, along with that god awful smell, reminds me too much of Dankworth Institute. My chest tightens like a vise closing in on its prey as the harsh,clinical scent of disinfectant fills my nostrils. For a second, I’m back there—back at the place with corruption lingering in every wall, mysterious deaths existing as forbidden tales never to be told. I’m back in that building where they kept us all locked like rats in a cage, awaiting our trial—will we die or will we be taken to our new hell in a dollhouse?
Panic roars inside me as the psychiatrist’s voice becomes fainter, my ears having seemingly stopped working.
I feel myself taking a step backward, all too ready to bolt out of here with no regard for Draven’s rules. I can’t make it; can’t breathe, can’t fucking do anything. Another step back, and the step echoes in the empty corridor, both of their heads turning back to me.
Suddenly, it’s Emilio Ricci and Arthur Grimhill staring back at me, their faces morphing into the men before me, until I can’t separate reality and hallucination.
“I-I—” I stutter, unable to take it any longer as I turn and run out of the door, into the freezing cold outside.
“Naya!” I hear both of the men screaming after me, one less agitated than the other, but all I hear is Frederick’s voice as he once shouted for me, about to punish me in the basement of Grimhill Manor.
“You will suffer the consequences for the actions you’ve made,” he hiss, grabbing my wrist harshly in his, and I know it will bruise in the morning.
The dark corridor emerges before me, the steps leading downstairs taunting me and whispering horrible threats in my ears. My legs thud against the harsh stone floor as he pushes me down six flights of stairs, my head thudding against the metal door. I let out a blood-curdling scream, as he shouts for me. “Naya!”
I can almost feel that touch of his grip on me; a phantomlingering in the back of my mind that I will never be rid of. I can’t fucking do this. I want to scream, but it will alert them where I am. I run until my feet can’t take it anymore, until they’re burning from adrenaline and fear pulsating through my entire being.
I don’t know where I’m going; all I know is that I need to get as far away from that hospital as I can, my mind slowly slipping into a headspace I know I won’t get out of.
Chapter 28
Grey
“Gone? What the fuckdo you mean, she’s gone?” I yell into the phone, anger fueling my insides like gasoline pouring into my blood.
Draven called Everlee a while ago, and his loud, frantic voice was audible through the phone before she put him on speaker. I froze in numbed horror, imprisoned inside my own body, as he told me Naya was gone.
“I mean that she ran out of the goddamned building,” he says, voice tense and every word clipped, betraying his annoyance.
“Fuck,” Clenching my fists, rage boils through me—a well-familiar emotion that’s been with me since I can remember. “It was your job to make sure she was safe! You insisted on going alone. How the fuck could you have lost her?”
My body is trembling from the rage I feel, and the urge to strangle Draven until his face turns blue grows stronger for each second I know Naya’s not within his sight.
“Well, I didn’t expect her to bolt and run while I was turned the other way,” he snaps.
Everlee’s worried eyes meet mine as she listens to what Draven has to say, biting her lip. She’s as concerned for her friend as I am, but it doesn’t help the fact that my little doll is far away from here, lost in a town we’ve never visited.
What if the authorities catch up to her? Recognize her? Each passing moment feels like one step closer to our doom, and my chest constricts at the thought of losing her again.
“You have a bike,” Everlee whispers into the phone, and he curses under his breath.
“I won’t let you take the bike in this weather—it’s the middle of winter!” His voice crackles through the speaker, the harsh tone making me wince as it grates on my nerves.
“If anyone can find her, it’s Grey,” Everlee softly tells him.
I stare at her, baffled, yet a flicker of hope stirs in my chest.
Draven took the car when he drove Naya to the psychologist, so I didn’t believe there was a way to reach Naya unless he came back to pick us up, which would waste precious time.
“Please, Draven,” Everlee begs, her voice like a soothing balm that would make anyone cave for her wishes.
Draven grumbles on the other side, ever the loving human. I honestly don’t understand what Everlee sees in that douchebag—she’s the opposite of what he is; kind, gentle, loving.
“The keys are in the hallway, and the helmets in the garage. But it’s not my fault if you fall and hurt yourself,” he growls, and I feel like it’s more directed at me than Everlee.
