Unknown forces

On Guard.

Chapter 15.

               After seeing Dr. Harper and hearing her last words, Ivy knew she had to keep the promise and make it out with her friends, in honor of her. Mr. S led them each back to their rooms, first Daniella, then Diego, Asher, Nolan, and eventually Ivy.

Before Mr. S could leave, Ivy called out, "How's Oliver?"

Mr. S turned, his expression indifferent. "You think I would just tell you that?"

Ivy's voice trembled slightly, but she steadied herself. "I just need to know if he's okay."

Mr. S smirked. "He's alive, if that's what you're asking."

Unsatisfied, Ivy pressed on. "Please, just tell me. Is he hurt?"

Mr. S's eyes narrowed. "That's personally information."

Desperation crept into Ivy's voice. "We're just kids. Why are you doing this to us?"

Mr. S sighed, looking at her with a mix of annoyance and something else she couldn't quite place. "Everyone has their reasons for things. If you were in my position, you'd probably do the same."

Ivy shook her head vehemently. "No, I wouldn't. I could never do what you're doing. Hurting people because of your own situation is wrong."

Mr. S's gaze hardened. "What if you knew there was a cure, and the only way to find it was to test on others first?"

Ivy stared at him, her mind racing. "There has to be another way. I would never sacrifice others for my own gain."

Mr. S looked at her for a long moment, then said quietly, "Everyone thinks that until they're faced with the choice."

He turned and walked out, closing the door behind him. Ivy sat there, her thoughts swirling. She knew she still wouldn't do it. There had to be other ways. But now she understood that Mr. S was doing this to help someone else, someone who was most likely very important to him.

Ivy sat on the edge of her bed, the sterile white walls of her room closing in on her. The camera in the corner was a constant reminder that she was being watched. There were no windows, no vents, and no sounds from the outside world. She felt completely isolated. Her thoughts kept drifting to Oliver, wondering what kind of tests he was being subjected to.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her head, and her vision blurred. Ivy clutched her head, trying to steady herself. Then, the vision hit her like a tidal wave.

She saw Oliver strapped to a cold metal table; his face contorted in pain. Electrodes were attached to his temples, and his body convulsed as electricity coursed through him. The room was filled with the harsh, sterile light of fluorescent bulbs, and the air was thick with the smell of antiseptic. Dr. Andrea and Mr. S stood nearby; their faces impassive as they monitored the experiment.

Oliver's screams echoed in Ivy's mind, and she could feel his agony as if it were her own. The vision intensified, showing Oliver's body arching off the table, his eyes rolling back in his head. Something was going horribly wrong. The machines around him began to spark and smoke, and the monitors displayed erratic readings.

Ivy's heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the panic rising. She wasn't the only one experiencing this. The others too, Daniella, Diego, Asher, and Nolan were seeing the same vision. They were all connected, sharing this moment of terror.

As the vision faded, Ivy was left gasping for breath, her body trembling. She could feel the anger boiling inside her, a white-hot rage at the people who were doing this to them. She had to do something, but there was no way out of her room.

She stood up and pounded on the door, shouting, "Let me out! Someone, let me out!"

There was no response. The camera's red light blinked steadily, watching her every move. Ivy's fists ached from hitting the door, but she didn't stop. She screamed until her voice was hoarse, tears streaming down her face.

"Why can't you all stop this!?" she yelled, her voice cracking with emotion. "You can't keep us here like this!"

She sank to the floor, her back against the door, and buried her face in her hands. The helplessness was suffocating, but she couldn't give up. She had to find a way to help Oliver and the others.

Ivy remained on the cold, hard floor of her room, her back against the door. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional hum of the camera in the corner. She felt a wave of hopelessness wash over her. How could she help Oliver when she was trapped too?

She stood up and paced around her room, her mind racing. There had to be something she could do. She couldn't just sit here while Oliver was suffering. But every time she looked around, she saw the same everything, reminding her of her captivity.

Ivy's eyes landed on the camera. It was always watching, always recording. She knew Mr. S, Dr. Andrea or any of the other workers were probably monitoring her every move. The thought made her skin crawl, but it also sparked an idea. If they were watching, maybe she could use that to her advantage.

She walked over to the camera and stared directly into the lens. "I know you're watching," she said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. "You have to let me out."

There was no response, just the unblinking red light of the camera. Ivy's frustration grew. She had to find another way. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

Ivy stood up from the floor, her legs shaky but her resolve firm. She walked over to the camera, its red light blinking steadily, a silent observer of her torment. She stared directly into the lens, her eyes burning with determination.

She looked around her room, taking inventory of everything she had. A nightstand, a table, two chairs, and a bed. In the small bathroom, there was a cup, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, and a comb. She took note of these items, wondering if any of them could help her.

An idea began to form in her mind. She couldn't reach the camera on her own, but maybe she could use the furniture to get closer. She walked over to the table and dragged it to the corner of the room, directly under the camera. The table was sturdy, but it wasn't tall enough on its own. She needed more height.

Ivy grabbed one of the chairs and placed it on top of the table. The ceiling was high, and she needed every bit of elevation she could get. She climbed onto the table, then carefully onto the chair, her heart pounding in her chest. The chair wobbled slightly, but she steadied herself, reaching up towards the camera.

She still couldn't quite reach it. Frustration bubbled up inside her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand. She needed to block the door to buy herself some time. Ivy climbed down and dragged the second chair over, wedging it under the door handle. It wasn't much, but it might slow them down if they tried to come in.

Climbing back onto the table and chair, Ivy reached up again. This time, she was close enough. She stretched her arm as far as it would go, her fingers just brushing the edge of the camera. She needed something to give her a bit more reach. She climbed down once more and grabbed the hairbrush from the bathroom. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best she had.

Back on the chair, she used the handle of the hairbrush to push at the camera. It took a few tries, but finally, she managed to knock it loose. The camera dangled by its wires, still blinking, still watching. Ivy's anger flared. She couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed the camera with both hands and yanked it free, the wires snapping with a sharp crack.

She hurled the camera to the floor, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The red light blinked one last time before going dark. She didn't care much for consequences. She had done it. She had broken the camera.

For a moment, she stood there, panting, her hands trembling. The room was eerily silent without the constant hum of the camera. Ivy felt a strange mix of triumph and fear. She had taken a stand, but she knew there would be consequences.

She then sank to the floor, her back against the wall. Her hands throbbed with pain, but she welcomed it. It was a reminder that she was still fighting, still resisting. She couldn't give up. Not now. Not ever.