Nova
I’m on the floor.
I don’t remember deciding to lie down. I’m just here now.
I can’t take a full breath. Every inhale catches. The cold has seeped so deep I can’t feel my toes. Can’t feel my fingers. Just the shoulder. That still screams every time I try to move.
Lena never came back.
I don’t know how long it’s been. Hours maybe. Days. The silence is absolute. No rambling through the wall. No broken voice. Just me and the dark.
Your parents weren’t even your fucking parents.
I can’t make the words stop.
It can’t be true.
Footsteps in the hallway.
I don’t move. Can’t.
The door opens. Light floods in. Too bright. I close my eyes.
Someone crouches beside me. Cold fingers against my neck. Checking my pulse.
“Useless,” Laith mutters.
Then hands under me. Lifting. My shoulder screams and I can’t make a sound. Everything goes white for a second.
When it comes back I’m against his chest. Being carried. My head lolls against his coat because I can’t hold it up.
The hallway is too bright. Fluorescent. Clinical. I keep my eyes closed.
His footsteps echo. Steady. Annoyed.
“You’re no use to me like this.”
His voice is low. Like he’s talking to himself.
“I gave you longer than the others. Thought you’d be stronger.”
The others.
My stomach clenches but I don’t move. Don’t open my eyes.
“Why are you resisting what you are?”
A turn. Another corridor. Colder here.
“I needed answers first. About your parents. About how you survived.” His grip shifts and my shoulder flares. “But you wouldn’t talk.”
He keeps walking. Faster now.
“You were separated. Starved. Isolated. It should have faded.”
Then his voice drops. Quieter.
“I never forgot those blue eyes. The way they opened and looked at me the day I found you.”
We stop.
A door opens. Warmer air. Antiseptic smell. Voices.
“Sir.”
“Warm her. Fluids. Reset vitals.” His voice is cold again. “I want her conscious for testing by morning.”
He sets me down. The table is cold. I can’t stop the sound that escapes.
His hand pauses on my arm.
Then he’s gone.
Footsteps. Door closing.
Voices around me now. Hands checking vitals. Something being adjusted. A blanket maybe.
I try to open my eyes. Can’t. Everything is too heavy.
Someone whispers close. “Testing? She won’t survive that.”
Another voice. Quieter. “Get the restraints anyway.”
Restraints.
I try to move. Try to pull away. My body doesn’t respond.
The darkness pulls me under.