The Final Exam

Chapter 19

June Carrey

"... Miss Carrey, Miss Carrey... Can you hear me?

Hello...?"

" I'm Mr. Ben Gardener, the nurse. Can you hear me?"

My eyes open for what feels like the first time in years.

A short, friendly man in his late 30's greets me with a worried gaze.

And for a while,

I forget everything.

I forget the exam, the labyrinth, Yeni, the woman in red, Andrew, Michael, everything.

In that split second, I felt normal. A regular teenage girl living in a small town with small dreams.

Until he opened his mouth.

" You're awake. There are some investigators here to see you. They want to ask you... about what happened. It'll be only for a few minutes, then your doctor will see you." Ben moves out of the way to go find the investigators, and I am hit in the face with my reflection on a mirror in the back. I don't see myself.

I see a girl defeated, with cuts scattered on my face, and a seemingly permanent scowl for an expression.

The world caught up to me.

Did I deserve this? What did I do that made me deserve this? Tears threaten to break out. I begin to think about how I didn't die. I broke my promise to Michael. I betrayed Andrew. The lump of guilt forms in my throat. My hand wraps around my neck as I stare mindlessly at the reflection across the room.

Memories flood in. Of when it was just me and Mike, in that hell of a maze. That woman, Andrew's... sister, comes into mind. The feeling of her hand tightening around my neck is still there. The feeling of Michael's lips on mine, that's still there. Andrew's hand tugging at mine, still felt it.

A clock ticks away in the other corner of my room. 11:30a.m.

A dry erase board hangs under it. In feminine handwriting, it reads:

Patient: June Alicia Carrey; Trauma Care

Sex: Female

Age: 16. (Happy Birthday!)

Weight: 130.6

Height: 5"6.8

Treatment: Painkillers, Blood Transfusion, Counsel (upon waking up), & Prosthetic Therapy due by 18th

Wait... WHAT??
First of all, I was knocked out for how long? 3 days? I missed my own birthday laying in a coma?
The very thought knocks the air out of my lungs.

But that isn't even the beginning of it...
My eyes shift to the immaculate white bedsheets, covering me from the waist down. My fingers, stroking the mix of cotton and polyester fiber, contemplative of lifting the sheet.

Before I could stop myself, a horrific scream fills my ears.

The pain of my nails digging into my scalp do little to help the shock. Familiar tears trickle from my eyes. I want to throw up. I want the earth to just cave in and swallow me whole.

Her laugh rings in my ears, taunting me. She did this to me. That bitch.

The door opens, and I quickly cover myself and suck in my tears. It's the investigators.

Two tall, dark, and handsome men enter the room with solemn faces. "Hello Miss Carrey, I'm Detective Connor, and this is my partner, Detective Nairobi. We need to ask you some questions about your friends and about what happened in the school basement. I know it's difficult to go back to such a horrible experience, but in order to put the people responsible to justice, we need your account."

My eyes blink cluelessly at the gentlemen for a moment.

"I understand. I'm just in a bit of a shock right now, and my memory is a bit blurry, so I can't give you much right now."

"— That's okay. Just give us what you have at the moment, and we'll return when you have more,"

Damn it. My efforts to shoo them away have failed.

"Tell us, what is the name of the woman in the lab coat?"

Her haunted face materializes in my mind. " Fi... Figueroa,"

The thought of Andrew interrupts my train of thought.

"Yes... it was Yeni Figueroa."

"Good. Now, exactly how did you end up in the... basement?"

Memories of waking up in a strange room become prominent. My broken glasses sit at a bedside table, next to a vase filled with colored daisies and "get well soon!" balloons.

"Yes, of course,"

"I was just... knocked out... in the middle of an exam, and then before I knew it, I was in her lab."

"Do you remember what she was studying and working on in the laboratory?"

There was silence.

It became apparent that I didn't know, or
that I didn't want to tell them.

"...I'm... not sure," finally a response came out.

"Well, at the scene we found 1 corpse, and when we searched the basement, we found 2 decomposed cadavers... Do you know where your friend Andrew Figueroa might be?"

My heart drops. "You mean... he isn't there with Yeni? Y-You couldn't find either of them dead??? Please, please tell me he's alive!" The consistent beeping of the machine becomes more frequent.

"Calm down, Miss Carrey. We are still searching the premises. I think that's enough questions for today. You need to recover."

And that was the end of it.

The men left the room, and I couldn't take it anymore. I just started bawling my eyes out. I look down at my hands, wrapped in red-tainted bandages, now damp with tears. I don't know what is real anymore. I don't even know if I'm actually dead or alive anymore.

Either way, June Carrey's life ends here.

The knob of the door turns, silencing me.

Instead of a doctor, a girl enters. It's that freshman with the red glasses. She walks in with her uniform on, giving me the clue of what day of the week it is. She sits down in the chair situated next to me, with an awkward expression on her face. I notice her red mid-calf socks, clicking a connection in my brain.

I remember her now.

Rosé Jennings. We met one day in the locker room back in April. It was 15 minutes before auditions for a play we both wanted a part in. She asked me if I could give her advice on appealing to the judge. "Hey, Can I have your opinion? I was debating on whether to ditch these red socks to not look so ridiculous."

"Keep 'em. I think they're special. It'll make you identifiable."

She still wears them?

She finally breaks the awkwardness in the room. "I'm sorry about what happened to your legs. I called as fast as I could,"

I glance at my legs. My right leg holds a big cast, while the left is missing just below the knee. "It could have been worse," I say.

"June... I saw your friend. I saw him. In that lady's laboratory. He's... he's not what you think he is."

"—What do you mean?"

"I think he's what she's working on. I saw him in the precinct. The police had him in a cell while they were calling some feds. Something about him being evidence"

Even with all that's happened, I can't believe it. It just doesn't seem real. I can't even wrap my head around it.

But I was right.

I should have killed him when I had the chance.