⸻ ❛𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒!❜
Rory Hargrove is obsessed to uncover the truth behind Barbara Holland's disappearance, while facing her brother's enemy and buried secrets from...
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"AURORA... IS THAT YOUR NAME, CORRECT?" The voice echoed through the room, soft and hollow, like something inhuman trying to sound gentle.
Lying on the stiff, sterile bed, Aurora blinked, her vision blurred by the flickering overhead light. The man came closer, his silhouette jagged, wrong. Cold, gloved fingers trailed along her face, their touch almost devout.
She tried to pull away. Couldn't. The straps were biting into her wrists and ankles.
The room was deathly white, except for the crude, childlike drawings smeared on the walls — smudged figures with hollow eyes, their mouths open in silent screams.
There was a metallic clang - a tray, instruments being moved. She wanted to ask where am I? but her throat tightened.
"Shhh..." The man said, leaning closer. His breath smelled of something rancid, chemical. "No one's going to hurt you. Don't be afraid."
A sharp sting pierced her arm. Fire burned through her veins. She tried to scream — nothing came out.
Her body convulsed, her mind shattered as the shadows in the corners of the room twisted and drew closer.
She heard the voices in the distance, an indistinguishable whisper...
...that stopped completely as she felt her body hit the hard floor.
Rory jumped awake with a sharp inhale. Her room. She was back. No more icy air, no more suffocating odors.
She sat up, her mind still in the fog of restless sleep. Then, like a switch flipping, realization struck.
The gray-haired man she'd seen in the lab last night— Dr. Brenner. The director. The man from her dream. The same sinister figure lurking in the room.
This solo investigation was eating her alive, distorting her mind.
His voice still echoed in her head, unintelligible but heavy, crawling under her skin. The words were lost, but their weight remained, making her nauseous. It was as if her body understood something her brain refused to process...
Or maybe she was just hungry.
She glanced at the clock. Shit! A school day— and she was already late.
She'd taken sleeping pills the night before, too wired to sleep otherwise. But why hadn't anyone woken her up? Was she too drugged to hear?
Rory pulled on a red blouse over her light blue jeans, grabbed her backpack, and grabbed an apple before heading out.
