“Universal code,” Ike says quietly, still dragging me down the endless dark corridor. “One for yes, two for no. Remember that.”

I blink, trying to make sense of this new information. My brain is already in overdrive from the struggle of processing all the new information—sensory, emotional, logical… any more puzzles to unravel, and it may give up on me entirely. “Wha—?”

“You’ll figure it out.” He pulls me into another stark white room. “All ready for you, doc.”

I blink rapidly in the light, still failing to clear the blurriness from my eyes.

“Bring her here,” a husky feminine voice says—the physician from the shower room.

Ike guides me forward, pressing on my shoulders to make me sit. It’s so disorienting to move this way. The longer it continues, the more I feel sick to my stomach.

“Name?” the husky woman asks.

“Ky—”

“Kyla Chase,” Ike interrupts me.

I close my mouth, trying to ignore the sudden burning in my cheeks. Will I ever get used to being treated like an inferior being? I can’t believe I ever thought I had it bad, dealing with VIPs. Here, I may as well be invisible.

Cold hands touch me under my chin, lifting my face and shining a light into my eyes. I squint, but do my best to keep looking forward.

“Vision troubles, yes?”

“Took a hit to the head prior to intake,” Ike replies in a strange monotone. Without being able to see his face, it’s hard to read the emotion in his voice—is it disgust?

The woman hums as she turns my head. Her touch is firm, confident—almost rough, but stopping just on the cusp of pain. Although, it’s difficult to discern how much pain was already there, and how much she’s inflicting.

A blue light flickers in front of my face, coming closer and emitting a loud clicking noise.

Click. Click. CLICK.

A searing heat burns my eyes, like I’ve stared into the sun. I blink and try to turn away, but the woman holds me firm.

“Don’t move. Eyes open,” she says. Again, firm, but not abusive. More like a stern headmistress.

“It hurts.”

“It’s going to hurt more. But it’ll help.”

Ike coughs gently behind me, once.

The woman touches my chin and lifts my face, but I shrink away, screwing my eyes shut. “You’re going to blind me!”

Ike coughs again, two times.

I pause, still keeping my eyes closed, but not shrinking away from the doctor’s hands anymore.

“I’m trying to help you. This should clear your vision,” she says.

A single tap—maybe Ike’s boot, on the tiled floor.

One for yes, two for no.

So I can trust this one? At least, as much as I can trust Ike. It’s the best I’ve got.

I open my eyes. “Sorry.”

She sighs, positioning my face the way she wants me. “It’s alright,” she says, though her tone suggests she’s not so forgiving. “The sooner we get this done, the easier it’ll be for you. Stare right ahead, into the light. I won’t lie—it’s going to burn.”

The blue light is a hazy pinprick for now. I grit my teeth and stare right at it.

Click. Click. Click. CLICK. CLICK.

The light blinks on and off, growing brighter with each flash. The burning returns, as though it’s splashing a drop of molten metal into my eye with every click. I’m sure I blink a few times, but I try my best to keep my eyes open.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Red-hot burning gives way to an acidic sting—right at the back of my eye socket, halfway to my brain. I’ve never felt a pain like it before. I grab at my own trousers for something to hold on to, and bear down against the ache, gritting my teeth.

Suck it up.

I had this coming. This is nothing, nothing compared to Dani, to Caleb. I could have been more careful, I could have made better choices. Tears stream down my face, the clicking noise rings around my skull.

Would they still be safe if it weren’t for me? Was there a way I could have gotten them out?

Guess I’ll never know.

“Alright,” the doctor says, stopping the light abruptly. She pulls her hand away from me and settles the long-handled tool on a steel bench at her side. Moving in closer, she holds up two fingers—still somewhat blurry and indistinct, but more defined than anything I’ve seen since waking up. “How many fingers?”

“Two?”

She smiles, her bright red lips stretching across her hazy face. “Good. Close your right eye.”

I do as she says, and the world falls into chaos again—blurry forms and blobs of colour. A brown shadow hovers in front of me. “How many fingers?”

“Fingers?”

She sighs. “Time for the left eye, then.”

Click. Click. Click. CLICK. CLICK.

----------------------------------------

The dormitory is dark, filled with gentle snoring. Low emergency lights outline the floor, casting a dull glow on the room’s contents.

Steel beds stand head-to-toe along half-height walls, arranged in a labyrinthine array of ‘rooms’, more like cubicles. The section closest to me houses six beds, each holding lumpy, shadowed forms of prisoners. Some sleep, one stares at me as I pass, and another rocks quietly in the corner, against the tiled walls.

Ike slams the door behind us. A few women shriek and gasp at various spots in the cavernous room. He drags me between the dividers, pausing at random gaps and mumbling quietly to the women within.

When we stop for the third time, my heart leaps into my throat. Dani sits calmly on one bunk, back straight, hands resting on their knees. Our eyes meet, and they stand instantly.

Or at least they try to. The moment Dani moves, Ike holds out a hand. “Sit.”

Dani gives him a pleading look, but stays silent, sitting back on their mattress without a word.

So you know, too.

Of course they do—they knew Ike far better than me. They gaze at me, brow furrowing at the tears streaming down my face, my neck, soaking my cotton shirt. “What happened?”

I try to smile. “Oh, you know. Just got some soap in my eyes.”

Ike sighs and leads me to the empty bunk next to Dani. He motions for me to lift my hands, and I raise the cuffs for him to take off. He undoes one, and I stretch my arm over my head, relishing the sudden freedom of movement.

I wait for him to take the second off, but he pulls my wrist down. My arm screams in pain as he yanks it towards the head of the bed and attaches the second cuff to the bar. He reaches into his pocket. “Take this.”

He holds out a small vial—similar to the tiny bottles of Composure I took from the cafe hundreds of years ago. I frown at it. “What is it?”

Ike glances over my head at something in the distance, before dropping his chin to his chest and shoving the vial into my hand. “Take it, inmate,” he growls.

Dani gives me a wary look—wide-eyed, but their lips remain a thin, resolute line.

I take off the cap and lift the vial to my lips. Ike stares me down, as if trying to communicate something to me telepathically.

The sickly sweet smell of toffee rises from the vial. Peering down, I half expect to see a swirling black void of Oblivion, but instead I see a thimble-full of grey liquid—almost silver, but without any of the shimmer or shine. I glance at Ike again and raise my eyebrows.

He taps his foot on the floor—just a single tap.

I drink—burnt toffee and charcoal mingle on my tongue, drying my mouth instantly, making me crave a long drink of cool, refreshing water. So thirsty.

A shuffling noise approaches, scuffing along the tiled corridor. Dani and I strain to see who’s coming, craning our necks to see over the half-wall that surrounds our bunks. Ike hits something against the metal bars of my bed—hard. I jump at the sudden noise, held in place by the cuffs which bite into my wrist. Our bunkmates, who had been sleeping, jerk awake at the noise. The prisoner opposite me yanks the covers over their head and turns to their other side.

“Sit still, inmate,” Ike says gruffly.

My body freezes in place, a cold dripping sensation trickling down my spine.

“That one giving you trouble again, Ike?” an unfamiliar voice rounds the corner, out of my line of sight. I turn my head towards them, but Ike hits the bed again. I would jump, but I’m still frozen solid, like he cast a spell on me.

“Eyes front.”

My eyes lock on the spot directly ahead.

“You learn fast,” the second voice coos in admiration.

From the corner of my eye, I can see their shined boots step next to Ike’s. Another warden. They hold a low mumbled conversation while Dani stares at me, their forehead creased in concern. They move their hands to sign something to me, but I can’t focus on the movements—they may as well be speaking a foreign language.

Just move. I will my muscles to twitch, to pull against the cuffs, anything. But I continue to sit like a manikin, staring resolutely at the sleeping form of a stranger in the bunk ahead.

The air tickles and burns, sending fresh streams of tears down my cheeks.

Blink.

Nothing.

The second warden raises their voice again, startling some of the other prisoners. I wonder if they get any sleep. The warden chuckles softly before moving away, stepping slowly towards the door.

“Sorry,” Ike whispers, bending over me to undo the cuff attached to the bed. “It’ll wear off soon.”

So this statue-like paralysis is because of the vial. I list the syrups I can think of off the top of my head; Understanding, Courage, Focus, Empathy… Everything had a positive connotation—effects that customers would actually want to experience. Nobody wants this. I feel like a puppet.

“Tell her to lie down!” Dani hisses. “You know she can’t until—”

“That’s enough, inmate.” Ike cocks his head towards our bunkmates and pats the thin mattress twice. The soft thud is quiet enough to be mistaken for someone shifting in their sleep. But I know what it means. It didn’t take long for me to learn his code.

No.