Chapter 6
LIGHTS OUT
The lights click down one by one until the pod is wrapped in that dim, bluish glow meant to keep us calm while the enforcers prepare to drug us for the night.
In tier one, we’d wait on our bunks. Here, we all gather in our new and improved common room.
Ivy and I are perched on the couch, Brielle and Juniper are sprawled out on the floor.
It almost looks normal if you squint past the cameras and armed men actively filling syringes.
Brielle is carefully braiding June’s curls, who’s lying across the rug, grumbling and squirming but not moving away.
“You’re pulling too hard,” she whines.
“You keep moving your head.”
“I’m trying to keep it attached, thank you very much.”
Ivy pretends not to watch, twisting her own braid with precise little motions. I sit at the end, knees to my chest, staring at the silver tray Colt is setting up. Ryder leans lazily against the counter beside him, twirling a capped syringe around his fingers like it’s a toy.
Brielle finishes tying a band around the half-wild braid and says, “Tell me something good.”
My head perks up. “What, like a bedtime story?”
“Yes.” Brielle makes it sound serious. More serious than it should be. “Something about the outside.”
Ryder huffs. “We’re really doing this?”
“Ooh, yes!” June agrees, seizing any chance to stir trouble. She sits up, twisting to meet the enforcer’s gaze. “Storytime. You heard her.”
“Not my job.” Ryder sets the syringe down, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“Then make it your job,” June says. “You’ve got the voice for it. Deep, brooding, tragic-hero type. I bet the ladies go crazy for that stuff.” She does a finger gun at him. He rolls his eyes.
Colt huffs a laugh and sets down his clipboard. “You’re stalling.”
“Exactly.” Juniper gestures wildly. “And it’s working. So, details. Give us a good one.”
“What is it like outside the program?” I ask, eyes locked on Colt as he squints to read one of the vials.
Ryder snorts. “You think we remember? We live here too, y’know.”
“Make it up,” Ivy cuts in, sharper than usual. Her braid is finished now, swinging over one shoulder. “Lie well enough, maybe she’ll believe it.”
“If we do this, do you all promise to take your knock-out drugs quietly?” Colt says, holding one up. I cringe at his choice of words, but nod regardless. Bri echoes it.
“No promises.” June smirks, making Colt narrow his eyes. “Fine.” She holds her pinky in the air. “But this better be good.”
“Deal.” He looks up, eyes searching the ceiling panels for the words. “Once upon a time…”
June’s eyes widen in satisfaction. “Yes! Commit to it.”
Colt rolls his eyes but continues. “Once upon a time, there was a city settled under the grandest sky.” He pauses. I try to picture it, stretching miles in either direction. It’s hazy, but it’s there.
“More,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “What does it look like?”
“Bustling during the day, quiet and pitch black at night. Full of stars you didn’t need to earn to see.” He cracks a small smile as he says it.
Brielle leans forward, chin propped on her knees, soaking up every word. “What else?”
Ryder groans. “You’re terrible at this. Stars, really?”
Colt shrugs. “That’s all I’ve got.”
“Add some animals or something,” June demands. “Bedtime stories need animals.”
“Fine. Uh—birds. Big ones. Loud in the mornings, annoying as hell. Like someone I know.” He tosses a look to June, who glares at him, but cackles anyway.
Brielle smiles, small but certain. “I want to see them.”
“Me too,” I add, thinking of the ones on the dining hall mural.
“You won’t, not here,” Ryder mutters.
“Good! I think they’re creepy.” June shudders. She crooks a finger at him. “Your turn. You’re not getting out of this.”
Ryder groans, but he finally gives in. “There were…trees. Tall ones. Big enough to climb. With leaves so thick they blocked the sun when you wanted shade. And in autumn—” He pauses, searching for the words. “The ground turned gold.” No one breathes for a second. Ivy looks up, eyes alight.
I try to picture it, but all the gold I know is etched into plaques or locked in glass cases we’re not allowed to touch. Never something that falls from a tree.
June cocks her head. “Not bad for a liar.”
Brielle whispers “Gold,” like the word itself is magic.
For a moment, we’re not subjects and enforcers. We’re just restless kids, waiting for sleep in the low light of the evening. The silence lingers far longer than usual. I revel in it, content to replay the story. A perfect sky, a golden tree I could climb, a loud bird to chase June around a garden.
The tray clinks as Colt lines up the syringes. He clears his throat, head bowed in silent apology. “Sleeves up. If we delay any longer, Mister M is going to come in here and blow a gasket.”
Two hours later, I’m still reliving the story.
Sedation should drag me under, just like it does for the others, but it can’t. Not fully, at least. My vision blurs at the edges, my limbs grow heavy, but I don’t fade.
I drift in and out, softened yet restless, never quite able to escape the in-between. I count everything. There are eighteen panels along the ceiling. Nine cracks spanning various expanses of the wall. Twelve wrinkles along the hem of my pink uniform dress hanging in the corner.
Enforcers make their rounds like clockwork.
Countless sets of pounding boots litter the hall, reverberating the walls so hard that I’m shocked anyone actually stays sedated.
Only one set is in our pod. It’s Colt tonight, I think.
The footsteps that pause just outside my door are too light to be Ralston, too careful to be Ryder, yet too reckless to be Vance.
The door creaks open. I stiffen on instinct, ready to give the performance of my life.
Shallow breathing, soft sighs, calculated stillness, the whole nine yards. Truly a sight to behold.
My cuff, however, is a depraved, evil traitor.
It chirps once, flashing orange to indicate a heart rate spike.
“Maysie?” Colt says. My eyes are closed, but I can tell he’s still near the doorway.
I try to force out a sigh, but it sounds more like a squeak. My eyes shut tighter as if that might fix it.
He sighs. “I can hear you.”
“No, you can’t,” I whisper, pressing a hand over my eyes. “I’m asleep.”
“And I’m Doctor Kade,” he says, putting on a painfully gentle bedside voice. I let out a small, stupid giggle. He breathes another long sigh. “Are you feeling all right? Any nausea? Dizziness?”
I shake my head.
“Ryder must’ve screwed up your dose,” Colt grumbles, more to himself than to me. “Can’t trust the guy to tie his own boots. This is partially my fault for even handing him syringes.”
He’s trying to make me feel better, I think, but the pressure in my chest hasn’t eased.
I could tell him the truth. That it’s not the dosage.
That it never works, but then I’d have to explain why.
Which wouldn’t be good, considering I don’t know why.
It just feels…wrong. I feel wrong for being wrong inside.
Redundant, maybe. But truer than anything I’d ever let myself feel.
It’s hard to lie, though. The organization knows what’s best for me. They just want to help me. An acute wash of guilt sends an ache down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the darkness, secretly hoping the world will send me a sign. Something. Anything to tell me I’m doing the right thing.
“Not your fault,” he says quickly. “I won’t log this, but you should get some rest.”
Colt slips out the door without another word.
I’m alone again. Counting the seconds. Savoring the stories.
Wishing for a sleep that may never come.