𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍| Max Mayfield

fifteen

PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER!
COMMENT AND VOTE. IT HELPS US WRITERS STAY MOTIVATED:)

Jules woke with a jolt, her breath catching in her chest as the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs overhead flooded her vision. She blinked rapidly, her disoriented mind struggling to make sense of her surroundings. The room she was in was small, cold, and unforgiving-a steel-gray box that felt more like a cage than a holding cell. The walls around her were bare, save for a few metal panels that didn't seem to serve any purpose other than to emphasize just how sterile and suffocating the room was. The air was thick with the sharp scent of disinfectant, and the faint hum of electricity seemed to vibrate the very air she was breathing. Her body ached, muscles stiff from an unknown period of unconsciousness, and her thoughts scattered like shards of glass.

Her heart thudded in her chest as memories began to surface. Flashes of her last moments before the darkness had consumed her: the van, the cold hands pulling her into the truck, the strange white-coated figures, the sound of her own pulse thrumming in her ears. And then-nothing.

She slammed her hands against the cold metal door in front of her, her voice breaking with frustration. "Let me out!" she shouted, banging her fist against the surface. "What do you want with me? Let me out!"

Her voice echoed back at her, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence that filled the room. Panic crept into her chest, and her breath came quicker, faster, more desperate. Jules's emotions were on fire, her rage and fear mixing into a volatile cocktail she couldn't contain. Without warning, the temperature around her began to shift. The walls of the room grew warmer, the air growing thicker as she unknowingly activated her energy manipulation.

The heat surged, and the metal around her began to glow faintly. The temperature in the room rose quickly, and soon, beads of sweat dotted Jules's forehead as the walls seemed to close in. The air felt too hot, too suffocating, as though the room itself was breathing in tandem with her growing fury.

And then, the door cracked open.

Jules froze, a breath caught in her throat as she turned her head toward the entrance. A tall figure in military fatigues stepped through, his face obscured by a black mask. The man's posture was rigid, confident, and his eyes narrowed as he assessed her. He said something in a language that Jules couldn't comprehend, his voice low and authoritative, the words spilling from his lips like a foreign command. His presence only added to her rising anxiety.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded again, her voice barely contained by the snarl that crept into it. Her energy surged, and the heat around her grew, the air practically vibrating with the power that hummed beneath her skin.

The soldier didn't respond right away. Instead, he stepped forward, his boots clicking against the concrete floor, and suddenly, without warning, his gloved hand struck her across the face with brutal force. The slap resounded through the room like a gunshot. The impact sent Jules reeling back, her head snapping to the side as her body collapsed against the cold wall. Her ears rang, and for a moment, her vision blurred, stars dancing before her eyes. She tasted the metallic tang of blood on her tongue, but she didn't dare show weakness.