Fear

10 • The cafeteria

Lee guided me down the hallway, his grip firm on my shoulder. As we approached a large, metal door, he paused, his hand resting on the handle. He glanced at me, a brief moment of hesitation crossing his features, before he pushed it open.

The door swung open with a creak, revealing the cafeteria beyond. My senses were immediately assaulted by the mix of stale food, disinfectant, and the murmur of hushed conversations. The room was large, its high ceilings and harsh lights casting a cold, sterile glow over everything.

Rows of long, metal tables filled the centre of the room, each lined with bolted-down stools. The tables were scratched and worn with years of use and neglect. Around them, clusters of people sat hunched over their trays, eating mechanically, as if the act was just another part of their grim routine.

The walls were a dull, institutional grey. To the left, a row of windows, heavily barred, let in a bit of natural light that barely cut through the gloom.

On the far side of the room, a counter lined with trays and cutlery led to the serving area, where a sullen-looking middle-aged woman dished out unappetising portions of food.

As I took in the scene, the clatter of utensils and the low hum of conversation seemed to recede, replaced by a rising sense of anxiety. Faces turned to look at us, curiosity and wariness evident in their eyes. Some quickly looked away, while others continued to stare, their gazes heavy and unsettling.

Lee pushed me forward. "Let's get you something to eat," he said quietly.

We moved towards the serving line, the weight of countless eyes following us. As we approached the counter, the worker barely glanced up, mechanically ladling a sloppy scoop of something unidentifiable onto a tray and sliding it towards me. I took it, the tray's cold metal biting into my hands, and followed Lee to an empty spot at one of the tables.

"Sit here," he instructed, helping me onto the stool. "I'll stay close by."

I nodded, picking up my fork to prod the gross-looking food on my plate. I looked up, my eyes sweeping over the room again. Everyone looked sickly and exhausted, like all the happiness had been sucked out of the room by a giant vacuum.
The atmosphere was oppressive, the air thick with despair.

Then, my eyes landed on a young man sitting alone in the far right corner of the room. His face was pale and peppered with fresh purple bruises. His hands trembled slightly as he picked at his food, and his dark eyes darted around nervously. He looked scared and upset, like a frightened animal.

Standing not too far from him was Dylan, who was already staring intensely at me with anger in his eyes. His presence was like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the already bleak room. I noticed his arm was in a sling, realising that it must've been Tyler's doing.

Dylan's gaze was full of venom, and from the way he was staring at me, it seemed that his hatred for me had only grown.

I tried to focus on my food, but the thought of Dylan's glare bore into my mind, making it impossible to concentrate.

As the boy's eyes landed on me, his eyes widened slightly, and then he quickly turned his head away, looking up at Dylan with a mixture of fear and resignation. Dylan's intense gaze shifted from me to the boy, his lips curling into a sinister smile that made my stomach churn.

I couldn't help but feel a surge of sympathy for the young man. It was clear that Dylan's presence terrified him, and I wondered what horrors he had endured under Dylan's sadistic watch. The boy's shoulders hunched, and he shrank further into himself, trying to become invisible.

Dylan took a step closer to the boy, his smile widening as he relished the effect he had on both of us. The room seemed to grow even colder, the oppressive atmosphere pressing down harder. The other patients kept their heads down, avoiding eye contact, as if fearing they might be the next targets of Dylan's wrath.