77. Back to the beginning

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The only light source currently illuminating a small portion of the room is a tiny red bulb, blinking in the corner. On, off, on, off, on, off. Repeatedly. It mocks me as I sit on the cold hard floor of my cell, replaying the moment when everything went to hell inside my head. One minute, it all seemed to be going according to plan, and the next, we were being taken away. Separated and locked up like animals. The clear glass walls that greeted me when I first arrived have been tinted black, keeping the outside hidden from view. More important, keeping me hidden from the outside. Watching the light blinking in the darkness, I press my lips together to try and push down the twisted amusement that rises in my chest. It's a security camera, meaning that even in the confines of this pitch-black room, I'm still being watched. His face resurfaces in my mind, and I hold back a sneer.

I wonder if the rest of the team is being kept in rooms similar to the one I'm in right now. Are they close by? Are they safe? Had they, too, felt dread creep up their spine when they were shoved inside and handcuffed to the wall, nothing but the feeling of cool metal digging into their flesh keeping them from hoping that this was all just a horrible dream? A twisted nightmare from which we would shudder awake, chest heaving as we drew in lungsful of much-needed air, in the safety and comfort of our beds back at the compound.

I yank on the chains, using the pain to anchor my mind to the present the way my body is anchored to the wall. This is no dream, and this certainly isn't the home we had built for ourselves during these past few months.

Just as my mind starts to wander again, as I try to come to terms with my current situation, a door I hadn't been able to make out in the darkness pours bright white light into the room. I squint, trying to adjust to the sudden change, and I can barely make out the silhouette of a tall figure standing in the entrance of my cell.

"Brianna," says a deep emotionless voice.

A voice I had come to trust, to admire, the voice of a man who had become like a father to me, to everyone back at the compound.

"I'm so sorry it had to come to this."

The laugh that has been building inside of me pushes past my lips, sounding hysterical even to my own ears. He isn't sorry, not in the slightest. The tiny ember of anger that had ignited in my chest when I saw his face, when I learned who he really was, transforms into a roaring fire that threatens to consume me, and I clench my fists to stop them from shaking.

Why did it have to come to this? Everything we went through, everything we lost, only to end up here?

"You're not sorry," I tell Christian, and I make sure to pour every ounce of hate and loathing I'm feeling towards him into those three words.

I hear him sigh before he turns around, letting the door fall shut behind him, leaving me in darkness once more. But this time, when the door closes, I'm determined to see it open again. And when it does, I will be the one walking out of here.

I inspect the cuffs that are secured around my wrists, lifting them as much as they allow me to while being firmly chained to the wall, and angle them towards the light. no keyhole is visible; they look like two hoops of perfectly smooth silver. It's moments like these when I really wish I had a physical Gift or a Gift that would tell me how to get out of sticky situations such as this one. But Gift or no Gift, I am not giving up. I will tug until my wrists bleed, and I will use that blood to slip my hands through. I will pull and pull until I can't pull anymore to break the chains that are keeping me in here. I will fight tooth and nail until I am reunited with my friends and we find what we came here for. So just one more yank, one more pull, and somehow, I will be free.

And once I am, heaven help those who stand in my way.

"Think Bri, think," I say to myself

Use that brain of yours. You are not going to stay in here forever. This is not how Brianna Acero goes down!

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