Consciousness crept back to Aiko Takahashi like an unwelcome fog, thick and disorienting. Shadows blurred the room, as a flickering light above played tricks on the darkness. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, a frantic drummer calling her to alertness. She shifted, and the coarse bite of rope dug into her wrists, binding them behind her back. A gag stretched across her mouth, silencing the panic that tried to escape her lips.
I’m not in my cell. Where am I?
Her fear filled the room, heavy with impending consequences. Aiko’s breaths came in short, stifled gasps as she willed herself to remain calm. Each shallow inhale was a struggle, each exhale a silent plea for clarity. Despite the dim light, her sharp, searching eyes scanned the room for any clue to her captivity.
This is not the detention center.
Disjointed images flashed before her, a mosaic of deceit and desperation: a handshake with a shadow, a door left ajar, a whispered conversation never meant for her ears. Aiko could feel the sting of treachery as though it were a physical wound, raw and unyielding. The consequences of her actions—a dance with danger for the sake of justice—now held her in their unforgiving grasp.
Am I in solitary confinement?
Aiko could never had imagined the horrors that went inside the detention center until she was on the inside. The Hendersons flashed in her mind—their eyes full of warmth, their home a sanctuary amidst chaos. Emma’s laughter resonated within her, a stark contrast to the cold air that filled her lungs. Mrs. Henderson’s gentle touch seemed a world away now.
“No, Malcolm cannot win!” she said to the empty room.
She couldn’t let the Hendersons fall prey to the Shadow Dealers’ venomous grip, nor could she allow their innocence to be crushed under the heel of Malcolm’s boot. This realization lit a fire in her chest, a beacon against the encroaching dark, propelling her to change her fate.
I must get out!
The air was stale, thick with the scent of mildew and desperation. Aiko Takahashi’s fingers scrabbled across the cold concrete floor, searching, feeling for hope in the form of anything sharp enough to cut through her bindings. A shard of something—a broken piece of metal caught under her fingertips. Its jagged edge promised pain, but also freedom. With careful precision, she maneuvered the shard into her bound hands, the rough surface biting into her skin as she sawed at the ropes. Every motion brought a grimace, yet her resolve did not waver; the Hendersons’ safety depended on her liberation.
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Now, position the metal against the rope and do it fast before they come back.
Her wrists ached, the coarse fibers of the rope gnawing into her flesh as they begrudgingly gave way. The anticipation of release sent tremors through her, excitement mingling with anxiety. The rope slackened, loosening its grip just enough for Aiko to wriggle one hand free. She worked quickly, freeing her other wrist, the sense of urgency driving her movements to be swift and silent. The last coil fell away, and her hands were free.
Time to get out of here—while I still can.
She massaged life back into her chafed wrists. Aiko reached up, her fingers trembling as they grasped the sodden fabric wedged between her teeth. Gently, she tugged the gag away, the damp cloth leaving a trail of saliva on her chin as it slipped out. She gasped, drawing in a deep, ragged breath—the first unobstructed gulp of air felt like icy water to parched lips.
“Adjust the timelines,” a familiar voice commanded, the words laced with authority and impatience. “The global stage is set; we can’t afford delays.”
That’s Malcolm, what’s Mindjevity? Does it have something to do with my mother?
“Understood,” another replied, subservient yet slick with hidden ambition. “Mindjevity will proceed as planned.”
The word Mindjevity clung to Aiko like a chill, its implications vast and sinister. She imagined the tendrils of the Shadow Dealers’ reach, unfurling across continents, seeking dominion over unsuspecting masses.
“You’re not supposed to be awake yet,” a gruff voice said.
Aiko followed the voice. It was one of the guards that took her to the new cell. She tried to run, but her legs failed her and she dropped to the chilly floor. Her feet felt encased in cement. The guard wrapped his burly arms around her in a vise grip. She freed one of her hands and it attacked a pressure point on the guard’s legs. He screamed in pain and let go and Aiko ran out of the room and into a green corridor with barred windows, but an open door was visible at the end of the hall. A hand grabbed her shoulder. It was Malcolm!
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”
“What do you want with me?”
“For you to realize your potential and to help me solve your mother’s greatest mystery. Just think of the great things we can do together.”
More steps echoed through the corridor. She was surrounded in seconds. She tried to fight, but there were too many.
“Get off of me!”
“Quiet, child, this phase will soon be over like a shadow in the night.”
She was carried toward the open door. Someone injected her with something, then her vision blurred.