Chapter 33
Kenzi
The clock on the safe house wall ticks too loudly, each second a reminder that tomorrow exists—that there’s no turning back. We’re near the other institution, having traveled out of state. I didn’t ask what she had to say to get permission for me to do this.
She probably didn’t. The higher-ups at the hospital likely think we’re at some wellness retreat. It’s probably best I don’t know. I just need to focus, otherwise our weeks of preparation could be for nothing. I will not mess this up.
Sofia sits across from me, her notebook open but her pen untouched. She’s not the doctor tonight. No, she’s a survivor, a co-conspirator. A woman who stopped hiding.
Between us, the table is scattered with papers full of summaries, questions, and possible responses. The “script” for tomorrow. She hates calling it that, but it is what it is. The final act.
There’s no denying it.
“Walk me through it again,” she says. “I want to make sure we have our part down flat.”
I take a breath and try to keep my hands from shaking. “You’ll start by establishing the timeline. I’ll confirm what I remember. Then I’ll describe the stage and the performances.”
She nods, her eyes steady on me. “Good. Remember, you control the pace. You can stop at any time.”
I nod, though I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop once it starts. My pulse spikes at the thought.
Sofia leans forward. “What’s the first phrase that comes to you when you think of him? Dr. Radley.”
The air thickens. I don’t have to think, and the words slip out automatically. “The curtain falls when the children sleep.”
Her pen doesn’t move. For a heartbeat, I see fear, or maybe recognition, flicker across her face. It’s hard to tell.
“That was one of his cues, wasn’t it?” she whispers.
I nod, my throat tight. “He used it to end the sessions. To make us stop talking or start performing.”
Sofia exhales and closes the notebook. “That’s enough for tonight.”
But my words—no, his words—keep circling in my head, whispering like a lullaby I can’t shut off. The curtain falls when the children sleep.
I rub my arms. “What if I freeze tomorrow? Worse, what if I start repeating what he wants me to say?”
“You won’t.” Sofia’s voice is firm. “You’ve already broken the pattern by remembering it without falling into it. You own it now, not him. It’s just a memory, nothing more.”
I want to believe her. I do. “You’re sure?”
“Completely.”
Another thought strikes me, and I glance at her again. “There’s something else. I want Graham there.”
She blinks. “You do?”
I nod. “He’s family. He’s been searching for answers as long as I have, and I know he hasn’t stopped while I’ve been under your care.”
Sofia studies me for a long time. “I don’t know how the others would feel. It might not be a good idea to bring a cop into this before we expose everything. Once he steps in, there will be protocols and red tape.”
“Isn’t there already? You’re a doctor, and I’m a patient.”
“We also aren’t the only ones involved in this. There’s a lot on the line, and I can’t imagine Florencia being on board.”
My heart sinks. “Will I be able to go home after all of this is done? I don’t think I can spend another day away from my family. Seeing Ember made that much clear. My heart nearly exploded out of my chest. I nearly stepped out of my role.”
She draws a deep breath. “I was going to wait to tell you this—”
“What?”
Her gaze softens, but her tone stays gentle and firm. “If this goes the way we hope, you’ll have time for that. You’ll go home to them all. To a real life. I’ve already secured your release from the hospital.”
The words hit me like a truck. I picture the kitchen light in the mansion, the smell of morning coffee, the sound of Fenna’s laughter that still feels like a memory from another world.
“Home,” I repeat quietly. “It feels like a story I heard once. I can’t tell if I believed it.”
“You will,” Sofia says. “That’s your release plan—recovery, testimony, reintegration. No more stages, no more scripts. Just returning to your life.”
The image of being home with everyone settles like a warm blanket. “Family.”
“After tomorrow.” Sofia gives me a firm but reassuring nod.
My chest aches. “And if tomorrow goes wrong?”
Sofia meets my eyes. “Then we improvise. The others will be there too.”
I smile. It’s small and unsteady, but real.
She rises, squeezing my shoulder. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we change everything.”
After she’s asleep in her bed, I lie awake in mine, staring at the ceiling. This room has no locks on the outside, but I don’t have the urge to escape.
Tomorrow I could be back home in my own bed with Graham next to me and Fenna in her crib. I thought we’d move her to her own room soon, but after this I can’t imagine ever letting her go.
As my body relaxes and my mind drifts toward sleep, I whisper the phrase again, just to prove I can. “The curtain falls when the children sleep.”
Nothing happens. No fog, no lost time, no voice in my head.
Just silence.
And in that silence, a fragile power begins to grow.
I really am strong enough to do this.
We can bring down Dr. Radley. Not just him, but the entire operation.
All of this will be in the rearview mirror.