We both still, and he stares back at me, my own surprise mirrored in his face. My cheeks heat, and my skin tingles where he touched me.
“Apologies, that was inappropriate,” he murmurs, but neither of us move, and I can’t bring myself to accept his apology.
Inappropriate or not, I can’t deny the pleasure blossoming in me at his nearness.
When was the last time someone touched me like that?
I’ve had boyfriends of course, but none of them ever made me feel so seen and so desired with nothing but the touch of their thumb.
It’s unnerving.
And apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.
The doctor clears his throat and looks away, his confidence and poise obviously shaken. “We better get back.”
I don’t argue, and when he strides down the hall, I follow, thoughts swirling with the weirdness of this day.
Nurse Schmidt is waiting for us when we return. She looks furious, and when she sees us coming, she trains all her anger on the doctor, for which I’m grateful. “Where have you been?”
“I was showing the patient around to help her get oriented with her new surroundings.”
“Patients are prohibited from venturing beyond these two rooms,” she says, and it’s not hard to imagine a giant stick lodged right up her—
“She was escorted by me the entire time, Nurse Schmidt. It’s not a problem.”
“Don’t think I won’t let Mr. Cutter know about this. I knew it was a mistake hiring you for this role.”
Dr. Livingstone’s eyes flash, and his expression hardens. “Do what you must, Miss Schmidt. No rules were broken. Now, if there’s nothing else, you may escort Miss Celeste back to her room.”
Nurse Schmidt looks ready to say more, but then she glances at me and apparently decides against it. “Come,” she snaps and walks off without waiting to see if I’m following.
I hurry after her without a backward glance, though I can feel the doctor’s gaze burning against my back as I go. As we head down the stairs and into the darkness, all I can think of is the way his skin felt brushing against my own and the strange sort of hunger in his eyes as he watched me go.
My thoughts are cut short as Nurse Slap-happy once again delivers me to my damp, cold cell. How could Dr. Livingstone not think this was akin to a medieval prison?
Nurse Schmidt swings the door shut with a loud clang. When she turns the key in the lock, the scraping sound echoes with a finality that makes my blood run cold.
She leaves without a word, and when her footsteps have faded, only then do I realize they never fed me that lunch Dr. Livingstone mentioned was coming soon. My stomach growls so loud I expect Dean or even Declan to comment on the noise, but they’re silent.
When my eyes finally adjust to the dimness, I squint into their shared cell and see that it is empty.
Voices whisper in my mind, and I shut them out, wondering if I imagined the wolfish twins who warned me of this place earlier.
Maybe they were apparitions, like the girl with the bloody tears I saw upstairs. Maybe they were never really here, and I’m alone in the bowels of this facility, a single captive who will soon go mad from the voices that plague me in my own solitude.
I curl up on my cot, glad for the oversized sweater, but still chilled from anxiety and the weakness of starvation.
Time passes and still no one appears.
Sounds reach me, some as if drifting from spaces above. Screams. Yells. Banging that sounds like items being flung against a wall. And some whispers in my ears. Maybe in my head.
You have to fight.
They will try to break you.
Écoutez les bêtes qui vous narguent.
Listen to the beasts who taunt you.
In the quiet, I am less and less sure of what’s real.
Something moves at the foot of my cot, and I watch as a figure takes shape slowly. It’s a girl. Not the one from earlier.
She’s different.
And all too familiar.
Her hair is wild and wavy like my own.
Her haunted eyes are smaller than mine, but the same color blue. And her mouth, so much like our mother’s, is pulled into a sad sort of smile that sends goosebumps across my arms and neck.
“Celeste.”
I don’t know if she speaks out loud or only in my head.
I never know what’s real with her. Especially now, after hearing her voice make that phone call.
“Estelle, are you really here?” I whisper, half-hopeful, half-afraid.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she says. “But I know why you did. He’s evil, Celeste. Cruel and merciless. He’s not—”
“Who is evil?”
“The man who brought us here.”
Fear curls in my gut as I think of the doctor, but my instincts tell me she’s wrong. She must be.
I scowl. “You’re not really here. And besides, you’re the one who made that call.”
“I’m with you, sister. Always.”
“You left me,” I whisper, the words sticking in my throat.
“I didn’t want to. Listen to me, Celeste. He’s not going to stop, and when he finds out what you are, he’ll come for you too.”
“What am I?”
She blinks like the answer is so obvious. “A witch, of course.”
I sit back, staring at her. There’s that word again.
“Estelle, now is not the time for jokes. Please leave me alone. They’ll think I’m crazy, and it’ll only make it worse. I have to get out of here.”
“There’s no escaping Le Rêve,” she says sadly.
Above us, there’s another thud and muffled yelling.
Estelle’s form flickers.
My eyes widen. “Wait,” I say, but she flickers again, and then she’s gone.
The moment I’m alone, I regret telling her to leave. Estelle’s absence is a hole in my heart that I would gladly fill with even her ghost—or my own hallucinations. In the emptiness, fear snakes down my spine, and the reality of where I am finally hits me.
The gorgeous doctor upstairs, whether he means well or not, is nothing more than a distraction. The truth is, I’m a prisoner, and no one, not a single soul alive, knows where to find me—even if anyone were so inclined. I can only hope the doctor will hear more of my story and deem me mentally sound enough to return me to my old life. Except the only thing waiting back there is death. And the only thing waiting in here is madness.
4
I wake suddenly, heart pounding, disoriented from nightmarish dreams—or maybe just the fact that I’m still in this dungeon and not safe in my flat near campus. I sit up and take deep breaths until my thundering pulse slows to something normal. My wrist itches, and I rub at the bandages covering my wounds. Finally, my eyes adjust, and I get up, peering across the hall for the twins. A small lamp marking the exit down the hall is the only source of light, but even so, their empty cell is unmistakable. Once again I wonder if they ever really existed at all..
Soft snoring echoes off the stone walls, and my stomach jolts as I realize I’m not as alone as I’d thought.
There are others here.
Tilting my head, I try to pick out which direction it’s coming from, but the way sound echoes down here makes it impossible. And after everything I’ve seen, I’m hesitant to call out or try to befriend anyone else.