For The Sake of Science

Chapter 7: Testing The Waters

He stood at the top of the steps outside the girls' dorm, already in uniform and coffee in hand—because of course he was.

Emily swallowed hard and gave a small wave.

He could tell she was nervous. The dark circles under her eyes gave her away. She hadn't slept more than an hour.

"C'mon," he nodded, gentle but firm.

She trailed behind him, her hands shaking. Her stomach twisted as she imagined what waited for her in the locked back halls of the research lab. Her eyes drifted to the black line peeking out from behind Salem's uniform, running along the curve of his spine.

They'd told her about the implant—that line was how they knew the procedure had worked.

Salem slowed, glancing back at her pale, trembling form. His expression softened, eyes dim with guilt. He wished there was more he could do. But for now, keeping her company was all he had to offer.

He stepped into pace beside her and offered a crooked smile.

"Hey—think of it like your first tattoo," he said, trying to keep the mood light. "You know, all your friends are going to think it's pretty dope. I mean, how many sixteen-year-olds get a fresh tatt on vacation?"

She cracked a smile. "Well, not many—but now? I know about thirty."

Her pulse evened out slightly. She was still terrified—but she was grateful for his presence.

They reached the double doors—locked, looming, sterile. Salem pulled out an access badge and tapped it against the reader. A soft click. The light turned green.

"After you," he said aloud, holding the door open.

It would've been a gentlemanly gesture in any other context. But this felt different. Like a boy letting the girl go first... into a haunted house.

Still, she nodded, lips tight, and stepped through.

They passed several rooms with thick metal doors, each with a small glass window. It looked like a psych ward.

I mean, technically it is a psych ward, she thought.

Darius stood outside one of the rooms, dressed like some off-brand finance bro—button-down, slacks, belt, clipboard in hand. He greeted her with the warm smile of a man trying to sell you toothpaste... or maybe prepping her for a pediatric dental appointment.

Maybe he'll give me a sticker if I'm good, she thought bitterly.

"Good morning," he voiced, gesturing to the door. "Salem, thank you for bringing Emily to her first research day. That was very kind of you."

Salem nodded silently.

"Emily," he signed, stepping closer, "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

Her stomach clenched. Panic surged. She didn't want him to leave. She couldn't be alone—not with Darius.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes darted toward Salem instinctively, panic rising.

She shook her head, wordless. The tears welled before she could stop them.

"Jenna, are you feeling okay?" Darius asked, his voice laced with false concern—like she was the unreasonable one. Like being surgically implanted with a tracking device shouldn't be terrifying.

"N-no," she stammered. "Salem, I—" Her voice cracked, and suddenly her lungs were collapsing in on themselves. Her knees buckled slightly.

Salem stepped forward, gripping her shoulder to steady her.

"She's terrified," he told Darius, his voice edged with steel. "Maybe it would be best if I stayed."

Darius didn't respond right away. His smile faltered. It was clear he hated the idea. Labs were strictly confidential.

"Just until she's sedated," Salem added, still shielding her slightly with his body.

Emily caught the sound of his voice—his Deaf accent still soft, steady. It calmed her nerves more than anything else had all morning.

She didn't realize until then how much safer she felt with him there.

Darius's jaw tightened. He detested Salem's defiance. It wasn't the first time the boy had pushed back—but this was different. This wasn't just any procedure.

This was Emily.

And if it meant getting her to cooperate... he could bend the rules.

Just this once.

"Fine," Darius said, trying to hide his annoyance.

He motioned her toward the exam chair—standard-issue, sterile white, with the crinkly paper that always felt too loud and too cold. Emily sat stiffly, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

Salem lingered in the corner, unsure where to stand. He wanted to be present, but not in the way. Not after already testing the limits a few minutes earlier.

He stayed quiet.

Darius moved with clinical precision, snapping on gloves and prepping the IV line. Emily winced, squeezing her eyes shut as the needle pierced her skin. She let out a soft whimper.

Salem flinched. Even from across the room, it echoed faintly in his hearing aids.

Once she was hooked up, Darius clapped his hands together like he was resetting—done with hospitality, ready to get on with the real work.

Salem knew that sound.

Darius picked up the small IV bag and attached the sedative drip, setting the timer with a few brisk taps. His eyes flicked to Salem, clearly signaling he'd overstayed his welcome.

Salem didn't argue. He simply nodded—a small gesture. A quick, silent you'll be okay.

Emily caught it. Her eyelids began to droop. She fought to keep them open just long enough to memorize his expression—worried, but steady.

Then darkness took her.

Salem turned toward the door, walking backward to keep her in sight as long as possible.

"Hey," Darius said behind him.

Salem stopped.

His body went still.

"Don't think I'm going to let things like this slide," Darius said, voice low and cold. "You two might be important. But not immune. You still play by my rules—just like everyone else."

Salem swallowed hard.

He nodded once, then slipped out the door.

It clicked softly shut behind him.

If his gut was right—and it usually was—Emily was screwed.