Val looked particularly droopy at breakfast the next morning.

“Are you okay?” Sophia asked, sliding into the seat across from her.

Val yawned and shrugged. She looked even thinner than usual; shadows were smudged beneath her eyes and her collarbones stuck up like bony wings from her emaciated neck.

“My brain feels more scrambled than usual. However---” she jabbed a finger at Sophia --- “you’re Sophia, and you give me your food. So I can still remember the important things in life.”

Sophia grinned and pushed her plate across the table.

“Also it’s Tuesday, ” Val said as she started shoving eggs into her mouth.

“Friday.”

“Dammit.”

Sophia laughed and they spent a few moments in silence. She wished she could at least drink coffee. She missed how it tasted and the way it used to warm her stomach.

“How goes the research with Jude, by the way?” Val said.

“Interesting, I guess. But it’s also proving how dangerous recollection reparation actually is. I really shouldn’t try it out by myself.” She leaned her chin on her hand and scowled moodily at the table. Mom probably would’ve showed me how to do it, she thought. Her heart swelled, and she blinked tears from her eyes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She dashed an impatient hand cross her cheeks. Val looked at her through narrowed eyes for a minute, then stabbed a thick slice of ham on her plate and lifted it to her mouth.

“So how’re you doing? With---stuff.”

“Great.”

“Have you visited your sister’s grave yet? Larry knows where the resident cemetery is. I’m sure you could---”

“No.”

There was a moment of silence. The cafeteria bustled around them. Then Val said:

“When I grapple with souls as they try to pass on, I get latent impressions of the last thing they felt before they died.”

Sophia looked at her sharply. “What?”

Val nodded, taking a long moment to chew a rather hefty mouthful of breakfast meat. “Your sister---Sybill, right?” Sophia nodded, and she went on: “She was filled with regret. It felt like I was being ripped apart by knives. I’ve never experienced something like that before. Whatever she did, she seemed really sorry for it.” Val looked at Sophia for a moment. “I don’t know if that makes it better.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Okay. I just wanted you to know.” Val resumed devouring her ham. Sophia watched her without really seeing her or anything else around them. Fuck Sybill, she thought.

Her eyes filled with tears again.

***

When Sophia walked into her Mastery Session later that week, she took one look at the patient on the bed and felt her heart fall into her knees. It was a little girl wearing dark red scrubs. She was much younger than the residents Sophia was used to seeing; she looked even younger than Simon.

“What now?” Clara said with a sigh.

“How old is this girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“The point of this is for me to try and take early memories, isn’t it? She doesn’t look like she has much to spare.”

“I wouldn’t give her to you if it meant harming her. However, there’s something we need to go over before you start with this one.” Clara tucked her pen behind her ear and crossed her arms over her chest. She frowned at the girl on the bed. “Samantha here is a resident from the Basement Complex. Due to their often-traumatic pasts, and the way those events have further shattered their already broken abilities, the minds of our Basement residents are...fragmented. You might find it difficult to navigate. If you feel uneasy at any point, you have my permission to withdraw. Understood?”

Sophia felt a cocktail of unease and guilt bubble inside of her as she approached the little girl. This shit just kept getting worse. She closed her eyes and reluctantly entered the child’s mind.

It was instant, horrifying chaos; the girl’s consciousness was a hive of incoherency. Sophia struggled to maintain her connection, dodging memory bubbles as they charged towards her with frantic aggression. She waded deep into the disjointed strings of honeycombs, searching for a distant childhood experience that was safe for her to remove. After a while she came to a cluster of memory bubbles that looked cloudy and sluggish. Jackpot. She approached cautiously. They turned leisurely and began to bob towards her, lacking all the energy of the ones that had charged at her upon initial entry. She gently reached out to them, and a cauldron of disjointed images washed over her:

She wrenched open heavy eyes. Two bearded faces leaned over her. Something sharp tweezed its way into her flesh, digging deep, but she barely felt the pain; everything was suppressed by the fog inside her head. Her tongue was swimming in syrup. Words fell thickly from her lips. What was her name? Did she even have a name? Her head rolled onto her shoulder and she stared through slitted eyes at the tiny, sharp little teeth lying all over the floor, the way they rolled and glinted, shiny and dripping. Wait. Not teeth. Needles. Hundreds of them. Momma was gone. She took the scent of cinnamon and soap with her. A door slamming. Cold fingers on her arms and legs. Another sharp pain in her arm. Pain exploded in her elbows and knees as she hit the floor screaming. The room burst into white light. She was blind, and then all she could see was purple flowers. Purple flowers under her hands, on the wall, ugly purple flowers blooming like bruises in the darkness behind her eyelids. Needles near her eyes. Momma was gone. Purple flowers under her fists. She pushed against them, yelling for Momma. Momma was gone. Hard purple flowers. Where was Momma? The bearded faces again, close to hers. Momma was nowhere. The skin on her wrist didn’t fit. It was wrinkly and heavy. Her eyelids sagged. They felt like big fleshy hoods. Her skin was oozing off her face. What was wrong? What were they doing to her?

“...watch your step.”

Watch her step. Blazing light. Watch her step.

Cinnamon and soap.

A dark room. She ducked inside, shutting the door and crouching down so they wouldn’t see her. She heard them running by, shouting her name. She waited until her thighs began to cramp before she stood up again. It took a moment for her to feel how cold it was. Goosebumps rose on her flesh; her breath came out in little white clouds. As she squinted around in the dimness, rubbing her arms, she saw a white glow emitting from somewhere inside the sea of blackness. She followed it, her heart fluttering, hoping it was an exit. But when she rounded the corner, she found herself looking, puzzled, at what appeared to be a giant fridge. It extended all the way from the floor to the ceiling. It was spewing cold smoke and making a strange hissing sound. She walked towards it, curiosity overcoming fear, and grabbed the cold iron handles. The doors were heavy, but after a lot of sweating and grunting, they slowly swung open. She stood there panting, momentarily blinded by a blaze of white light. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

Max and Mason were inside.

They were standing upright, held in place by several thick cords, which were looped around their limbs and fastened to various frost-encrusted rings on the sides of the giant, inexplicable refrigerator. For a terrifying second, she thought they were dead. Then she saw their chests rising and falling, and the iron grip on her heart lessened.

“Mason?” she whispered. “Max?”

She tiptoed forward and poked the tip of Max’s foot. He didn’t move. Up close, she could see that he was covered with frost; his hair was laced with white, and tiny icicles clung to his eyebrows and lashes. She suddenly thought how awful it would be if he opened his eyes. She swallowed.

“Did you check the Pantry?” a voice outside the door yelled.

She turned and ran deeper into the room. For a moment she got lost among a labyrinth of dark shelves, which were lined with vials full of some kind of dark liquid. She didn’t stop to examine anything, and finally she saw a glowing “exit” sign. She charged through it and back out into the winding dark halls, up one staircase, down another---until she found herself, panting, in the dimly lit and currently abandoned main lobby. Her eyes fell on the phone behind the desk; she did not hesitate. She bolted across the room towards it, ignoring the burning stitch in her side.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, um, I think I need the police please,” she gasped. Her eyes had filled with tears. She dashed her hand across her face as they began to fall down her cheeks.

“Okay, honey, tell me your location.”

The lady sounded nice. She took a deep breath. “Um, I’m at—Reynolds Institute. My friends are hurt.”

“Hold old are you, sweetheart? Are there any grown-ups around?”

“Six. And they’re the ones who hurt us. Please send help.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Behind the desk. They’re—” The sobs rising in her throat made the rest of her sentence incoherent.

“Hello? Sweetheart, you still there?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your name?”

She sniffed. “Sam.”

“Okay. I’m trying to pinpoint your location now, Sam, stay with me. You said you’re at Ray—Reynolds?”

“Reynolds Institute. It’s a hospital. I haven’t seen Momma in weeks. Can you call her?”

“Where’s your Momma now?”

“At home. She---” She broke off. Hurried footsteps were coming down the hallway. Three silhouettes appeared in the doorway. Sam froze.

“Hello? Sam, are you there?”

“They’re going to stick me in the fridge too!” she cried as the doctors ran towards her. “Please help me---no! Wait! Don’t--!” Her screams were cut off as three pairs of rough hands dragged her out from behind the desk. The phone was torn from her grip. A sharp sting in her neck. The edges of her vision blurred.

Darkness. Then thick, heavy oblivion.

Everything faded. Sophia extricated herself from the memory thread without absorbing it. She stared down at it; it was like a cracked marble. As she looked at it, feelings of profound compassion and anger tore through her being like shards of ice. Everything around her fused into a single pulsating haze, and the cracks on the marble seemed to blur together. She hastily released it, suddenly uneasy as she pushed off into Samantha’s sea of consciousness, gaining speed as she propelled herself out---and opened her eyes.

She was standing over the little girl, who was still sleeping peacefully, her blonde hair spread out on the pillow.

“How do you feel?” Clara asked, her pen poised over her clipboard.

“Fine---really good, actually,” Sophia said, realizing with some surprise that she didn’t feel weak or disoriented. She also didn’t feel hungry anymore. But how? She hadn’t taken any memories…

“You had excellent control while you were inside. I could feel it. Well done.”

“Thanks.”

Clara looked at her for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then she said: “What’s the matter? Did you see something in there that bothered you?”

Something in her tone put Sophia on her guard. “Nothing major,” she said carefully. “It was just depressing. Her parents weren’t around very much and I could feel how sad it made her.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s not enough?”

Clara pursed her lips and tucked her pen into her back pocket.

“Of course it’s unfortunate. But you’ll find that many of our residents have broken homes. You can’t get too focused on it.”

“Right.”

“Good. I think we can conclude this session.”

…knew this was a bad idea.

“What?” Sophia said, startled at the voice she had just heard in her head.

“I said this session is over. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Sophia couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Her heart thumped in her ears as she hurried down the hall, giddy on the heels of the realization that she had just read Clara’s thoughts.

Or had she? Doubt immediately quelled her glee. Maybe she had just picked up the thread of someone else passing by the door. After all, it was unlikely Clara would suddenly drop her guard and expose the contents of her mind to another Telepath like that. She was too skilled. Too careful.

Although….

Clara didn’t believe Sophia even was a Telepath. She was “defective.” Was it possible she hadn’t been on guard because she didn’t think there was anything to be on guard against?

Sophia was so excited about this theory---and what it might mean for her---that she headed straight to the Lavender Lobby to discuss the matter with either Jude or Val. She spotted both of them sitting by the fireplace.

“Don’t you ever hang out on your own floor?” Jude asked, barely glancing up from the book he had on his lap.

“I think I just read Clara’s mind,” Sophia said, ignoring him as she threw herself into the chair next to Val.

“And why would she let you do that?” Val asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sophia told them breathlessly what had just happened. By the time she was done, Jude had put down his book.

“Read my mind right now,” he ordered.

Sophia sat up straighter, locked eyes with him, and concentrated on willing his mind to open...to unfold before her...nothing. She scowled. Tried again. No luck. Jude was looking at her with obvious scorn.

“I can’t hear anything,” she grumbled. “But maybe that’s because there’s nothing jostling around in that meat chunk you call a brain.”

“Have you considered….” Jude lowered his voice and beckoned her to move closer. His expression had grown wary. Sophia leaned forward, suddenly tense.

“What?” she whispered.

“I was wondering if you had considered the distinct possibility that you just suck?”

Sophia glared at him. For a split second, she wished her power was super strength so she could propel him through the roof and into the cold and unforgiving bowels of outer space.

“Try me instead,” Val said. She stared at Sophia with comical intensity. Sophia threw Jude one more filthy look before turning towards her. They stared at each other for a full minute. Then, so suddenly Sophia jumped, she heard Val’s scream in her head: POOP!

Except her lips didn’t move.

“That was the extent of your creativity, Val?” Sophia said, grinning.

“Yay, it worked!” Val cried, delighted. “Wanna do it again?”

Penis.

Sophia whipped around to look at Jude.

“Really?” she snapped. He went off into a peal of laughter.

“I thought I’d go with something near and dear to my heart,” he said.

“I can’t believe you two.”

Hey Soph, can you hear me? came Val’s mental chirp.

“Slow down, both of you,” Sophia said. Her head was starting to hurt. “It’s too much.”

“Can’t you talk back?” Val said, looking disappointed.

“Last time I tried to put thoughts in someone’s head, I ended up in the infirmary..”

“This is so cool,” Val said gleefully.

“Or stupid,” Jude added. “What happens when you can’t turn off the mental notes of everyone in the room? You’ll go crazy.”

“Maybe,” Sophia admitted. “I’d have to learn how to dial down the signals I wanna ignore.”

“And you think you can just hop in and do that, eh?”

“I’ve figured out plenty on my own, thanks.”

“I’m just saying let’s not fly too close to the sun.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“So what do you think you saw in that little girl’s head?” Val asked abruptly, settling back into her chair. “You said she was from the Basement? That’s wild, I didn’t think they let those residents out...”

“Why? What’s up with that floor anyway?”

“It’s reserved for patients that are…” Val bit her lower lip and seemed to be lost in thought.

“Batshit crazy,” Jude finished.

“Jude, they’re not crazy. They’re just erratic.”

“That’s doctor speak for crazy, Valerie.”

“What makes them crazy?” Sophia said, hoping to stop their argument before it even got off the ground. “Like they have legit mental health issues?”

“Some of them,” Jude answered. “But they’re basically lost causes. If they didn’t have abilities, most of them would probably be in regular jail instead of being locked up here. They have dangerous, crazy ass powers they either can’t control or simply won’t. You know how the people in the infirmary have abilities that make them comatose? Well, the Basement patients have powers like that, but rather than burning out, they explode. They’re a public safety hazard. Even more so than the rest of us.”

“You sound like Reynolds,” Sophia said darkly.

“Well he’s not all wrong. There are some powers that shouldn’t see the light of day.”

“Wasn’t your roommate transferred down there?” Val said. “What was his name again? Linus? Lucifer? Wait, no, Val, that’s the actual devil…”

“Liam.” His eyes went flat when he said the name. “But yeah, he’s in the Basement now, and I mean, you saw what he did.”

A silence fell between them. Sophia wondered if she should ask the obvious next question, but to her surprise, Jude answered before she could voice it:

“Liam is a Defective Healer and he can’t control himself worth shit. He almost crippled Simon.”

“What?” Sophia blanched.

“He had no control even when he was asleep. One time I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought I heard a tree trunk snapping, only to realize it was my legs. Or my arms. Once it was my finger.” He stared down at his hand, scowling. “He was transferred to his own room, and then eventually to the Basement. The point is that he’s nuts, and so is everyone else on that floor. I’m amazed Clara’s even letting them anywhere near you.”

“Must mean she’s run through the infirmary patients and they’re all that’s left,” Val commented.

“Could be,” Jude said. “I mean, the Basement kids are probably considered pretty low-risk too.”

“What do you mean?” Sophia asked.

Jude looked at her for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual. “So…okay, I don’t mean this like I’m coming at you or anything.”

“…okay?”

“Infirmary patients are like coma patients; occasionally a family member will dutifully drop by for a visit, but they’ve basically given up on them because their powers are unmanageable and scary, and nobody want stop deal with that. Basement kids are in the same boat. They’re psycho, so they’re families don’t want to see them anyway, and nobody cares what happens to them.”

“So you’re saying my diet makes me a legal liability, so the doctors have to make sure the people I’m working on are low risk, and that nobody will come looking for them and asking questions that could put the Institute under fire.”

“Gold star. Great job.”

“What happens when I run out of low-risk victims?” Sophia said in a low voice.

“I don’t know,” Jude said, and for a second something like fear flickered in his eyes. “Maybe they’ll have you start taking shit from the rest of us.”

“But that’d put the Institute at risk, wouldn’t it? I mean, take you. If I just started taking your memories, that would lead to trouble down the line because you’re not a Basement kid, or an infirmary patient.”

“You could get away with me,” Jude said with a sardonic laugh. “My parents visit maybe once a year, and they’re barely even present when they do. They never stop down and see Simon anymore.”

A silence fell as all three of them stared into the fireplace. Finally, Val stood up.

“This has been fun, kids, but my meds have left me feeling wiped. I’m going to take a nap. Soph, let me know if you need any more mind reading practice. It’s fun. As long as you promise not to share what I tell you.”

“I’ll try,” Sophia said, grinning; the grin slid off her face as soon as Val vanished through the door of the lobby. “Is she gonna be okay?” she wondered aloud. “She’s sleeping a lot these days.”

“She’s fading,” Jude said. “I don’t think she’s going to be able to rein in her power for much longer.’’

Sophia stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s dying.”

“I’m sure it isn’t that bad. She could be---”

Jude silenced her with a shake of his head.

“She reminds me of Simon. A few days before he went to sleep and never woke up, he was acting weird too. Forgetting basic stuff like his age, where he was… he even forgot my name. And Val’s power is even worse than his. She always said it would kill her.”

She was appalled at his bleak tone of resignation. Is this what living here was going to be like? Befriending other residents, having a laugh, watching them get picked off by abilities they never asked for, and then have it all chalked up to “shit happens”? But isn’t that always how it is? she thought, helplessness washing over her. She had watched people roll over and die time and time again. They slipped beneath the cosmic curtain and passed into the unknown, leaving only echoes of their old selves behind---echoes that nobody else seemed to notice or hear.

***

When Sophia arrived for her Mastery Session the next day, she experienced a nasty shock. The boy from Sybill’s memories, Jack, was lying on the bed. He wore the same colored scrubs as Samantha. Just looking at his face made her stomach boil with hatred. She wanted to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze until his eyes popped out of his skull. She could do it easily. He was clearly sedated. He wouldn’t even put up a fight…

“Is he from the Basement too?” she said.

“Yes. Is that a matter of concern?”

“Not at all.”

“Whenever you’re ready then,” Clara said coolly, sitting down in a chair in the corner and crossing her legs.

Sophia tried not to look directly at Jack as she took her place at the side of the bed. The loathing surging through her veins was powerful; it churned her guts into bile. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and slipped beneath the veil of his consciousness.

A face peering out the barred window on the door as he passed in the hall. Tear-streaked, shock of red hair.

Dark eyes staring into his, dark eyes framed by dark curls.

“How are you feeling, Jackie?”

He was silent. The straps cut into his skin.

“The doctor asked you a question,” came a gruff voice from the corner.

Fear and hatred tore through his heart like shrapnel. The dark eyes leaning over him pulled back and he saw the pale face they belonged to.

The face shaped like a heart.

“Let’s fix this,” said the pale face.

The straps loosened. He gasped in relief.

Shuffling boots in the corner.

He sat up carefully, staring over the pale face’s shoulder. At the flowers on the wall. They were like

squashed purple bugs.

Sharp pain in his arm as the needle went in. He yelled, squirmed away, tried to jump down off the hard metal table and run.

“And that’s why we keep him tied down,” said the gruff voice, shoving him back into the straps. He knocked his head against the wall as he thrashed. Tiny stars exploded before his eyes.

The pale face loomed over him again, frowning.

“Just take it easy, son. We don’t want to hurt you.”

“I want to go home,” he sobbed.

“Keep him sedated,” said the pale face to someone Jack couldn’t see. “I’ll be back after I make the rounds.”

“You got it.”

The pale face turned to leave. Jack yanked against his bonds, yelling:

“No! Don’t leave me! Daddy!”

The door swung shut. The deafening boom rattled in his ears. His eyes stung and he tried to hold back the tears but they spilled over and ran down his cheeks. He was starting to feel funny. Like somebody was stirring his insides into soup. It hurt. Every part of him was liquefying. He opened his mouth and screamed for Daddy again.

The memories were dissolving, and something new and strange happened. The older ones were being invaded by ones Sophia didn’t want to touch, memories that were sharp and powerful; they sagged with such strong emotion that she was disoriented. It was like two different liquids smashing into each other, creating a swirling mess, and she was caught in the flood. They broke over her and began to play out, but she found, with no small surprise, that she wasn’t absorbing them. She was drifting outside of them, witnessing the events inside the honeycomb while remaining apart from it. She felt in her heart that she could’ve reached out and taken them for nourishment whenever she wanted---but she didn’t need to. She didn’t want to. And so she watched.

Thwap!

The wet thud of falling flesh. Jack rolled over, clutching his stomach, as the foot flew towards him again, colliding with his neck and jaw. He choked for breath.

“Take the fucking pills, you little shit!” Thwap! Thwap!

“Stop it, Xavier.”

There was a pause in the blows. Jack lay in a growing pool of his own blood, unable to raise his head.

“Let go of me!”

“He’s had enough.”

“You know what he fucking did. Look at my fucking face!”

“I’ll handle him. Gimmie the pills and take a walk.”

Thwap! Thwap! Firsts of agony exploded in Jack’s stomach.

“I said WALK.”

There was a scuffle. More cursing. A door slammed. Nothing but silence and the taste of blood in his mouth. Then a hand touched his hair.

“Go for his tongue rather than his eyes next time. Maybe that’ll finally get him to shut the fuck up.”

With great difficulty, Jack raised his head and shot a bloody grin up at the person bending over him. This man looked the same as the one who’d been beating him moments before---except for a different look in his eyes and the freckles on his nose.

Jack’s head gave an awful throb; his vision darkened and his head sagged back down to the floor as the pain carried him into a black and dreamless sleep.

…

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands folded in his lap and his ankles crossed. Francis Coppula sat on a folding chair in front of him.

“Don’t get too chummy with that kid,” he was saying.

“Who, Dillon? He’s harmless. Like a puppy with a broken leg. Besides, we’re roomies. Shouldn’t we get along?”

“Don’t invest in people who don’t understand you.”

“Who wants to be understood? Sounds messy.”

“I’m serious, Jack. People will always fuck you over if they get a chance.”

“Is that how you feel about me, Francis?”

“You’re different.”

“Am I? How sweet.”

“I’m just saying I’ve met people like Dillon. Walks around wringing his hands and bleeding from his heart, like anything actually fucking matters in the end. Plus, he looks like a rat.”

“That’s true. Poor thing, it’s not his fault.”

“And I don’t like the way he’s always hovering around you.”

“Jealous?”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“You’re an awful liar, Franny.”

Francis grunted, then leaned forward with his palm outstretched. “Take your suppressants.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fun to see what would happen if I didn’t?”

“We know what would happen. You’d have to take Time from someone and then Reynolds would have a hissy fit and I would be fired.”

“What a waste. Without my powers, what am I, really?” Jack sighed and picked up the pills, pinching them delicately between his fingertips. “Just a sociopath with incredible hair.”

Francis grinned, then reached out and patted his head.

…..

“What happened?” Francis grabbed Jack’s chin and forced his face upward. He scrutinized the bruise blooming beneath his eye and the deep cut that glistened redly on his lip.

“I fell.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?

“Of course not, love. I’d never bullshit you.”

“Was it my brother?”

Jack grinned. “Twins are complicated, aren’t they? Has he always been so possessive of you?”

Francis let out an angry exhale and released his face. “I’ll talk to him.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. You’re not the one who will have to suffer the consequences.”

“He shouldn’t do this to patients, anyway. I’ll throw the book at him.”

Jack grinned. “He’s not the only one who does things to patients that he shouldn’t.”

There was a brief pause. Then Francis turned away. “I’ll be back later with some ointment for that eye.”

“Okay, dear. See if you can manage some caviar too.”

The door slammed, cutting off Jack’s mirthless laughter.

…

It was a bright winter day. The sun ignited the snow into polished silver, while the tree branches were heavy with encasements of crystal ice. Jack and Francis were strolling, arms linked, through the remnants of a sleeping garden. The snow-clad trees lining either side of the walk stood watch over them like somber brides in white.

“Xavier’s the golden boy and I’m the wolf.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?”

Francis shrugged. “That’s how it’s always been.”

“Your brother is just as unstable as you---and maybe even a little more so, honestly. He has such a temper. Have you ever hit anyone in your life, you old softie?”

“You’re gonna be my first if you don’t stop running your mouth.”

“I’d be honored. Just not in the face, please, it’s all I have in this world.”

“That’s all, eh?”

They stopped walking, meeting each other’s gaze. The breath steaming from their lips mingled and bloomed outward in the winter air. Then Francis said:

“Let’s go back inside.”

“So soon?”

‘You need to take your damn suppressants. You don’t think I know you’re just stalling?”

“You’re so strict.”

…

They were in the library. The sky outside the windows was the soft purple color of approaching dusk. The only sound was the ruffle of pages turning from unseen cubicles lurking somewhere in the shadows beyond the empty aisles.

“Do you believe in God?” Jack whispered. Francis was sitting next to him, their chairs pulled close enough together so that their shoulders were touching.

“No.”

“Shame.”

“You do?”

“Oh, absolutely. If there isn’t someone up there to punish people like us, it’s a bit of a nonsensical universe, isn’t it?”

“God doesn’t have to be real for it to all be nonsense anyway.”

“I think the universe is ultimately governed by justice.”

“And you would consider your eventual damnation just?”

“Of course. I’ve done awful things, darling.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“But normal people feel bad afterwards.”

“Your lack of remorse doesn’t make you bad, Jack. Just different.” Francis held out a white bottle and gave it a little shake. “There are still exactly seventeen pills in here. Have you been skipping your dosages again?”

“It’s cold in here, isn’t it? See if you can get someone to turn up the heat. Or better yet, why don’t you put your arm around me?”

“If you’re going to be difficult, I’ll have to pin you down and force feed you.”

“I would not object to that in the slightest.”

“Take the motherfucking medicine, Jack.”

“Medicine. What a euphemism that is,” Jack said, holding out his hand with a lazy smile.

…

The dimly lit room smelled of lemon-polished oak and sandalwood incense---and sweat. His whole body ached, but it was a profoundly satisfying kind of pain.

“You should go before your nurse comes looking for you.”

“Don’t worry so much. You’ll get frown lines. Besides, I’m just in an appointment with one of the Institute’s most prestigious doctors. What sort of untoward things could possibly happen?”

“Cut that out. You really gotta go.”

“I don’t want to. It’s boring in my room. Plus the scenery isn’t half this good.”

“C’mon, I’ll walk you back. You’re not even supposed to be up.”

“Mmm….who’s fault is that, though?”

“I said cut it out, Jack.”

…

It was parents week and the lobby was swarming with people. He sat in a striped purple chair in the corner, watching all the sweating meat sacks come and go. He sized each one up, trying to determine who would be the easiest to overpower. Old people were by far his preference, but that little girl running around the coffee table was a valid option. Or the baby the blonde woman was holding. Jesus Christ, it was like a bellowing little ham, foaming at the mouth as it screamed in her arms. It’d be so easy to chuck it out the window. Or down an escalator.

“I’m really gonna have to talk to a guy about the locks on your door.”

Without looking up to meet the dark eyes he knew were leaning over him, Jack said: “Spoilsport.”

“They’re losing their minds looking for you down there. C’mon.”

“Just a little longer.”

“No.” Francis’s hand gripped his shoulder.

He swatted it away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Silence. The hive of activity continued around them. After a long time, Francis said:

“Your folks here?”

“Sure. Five years ago.”

Francis knelt down. One of his hands rested on the arm of the striped purple chair; the other came to rest gently on Jack’s knee. He didn’t say anything else. They watched the people together.

…

He was sitting cross-legged on his bed with a thick book in his lap. The door creaked open and he looked up, expecting to see his nurse with her daily injection. Instead he found himself staring at a familiar grizzled face.

“You need a shave,” he said flatly.

“My trip was good, thanks.”

“What, you’re mad I didn’t ask about it? You never tell me anything anyway.” Jack scooted over to make room for Francis on the bed.

“Been taking your pills?” Francis asked as he sat down.

“Not if I can help it.”

Francis sighed. Jack leaned his head on his shoulder.

“Did you miss this?”

“Nope.”

“Then what about this?”

“Jesus, cut it out. Not here.”

Jack laughed quietly and withdrew his hand. “What’s on your neck?”

“What? Oh---nothing. I got knicked.”

“With that, a chainsaw? Your skin looks like a cheese grater.”

“This kid fought me.”

“You work for a place people are always trying to get away from. That must really sting your pride.”

“They run away because they’re stupid and under the delusion that it’s better out there.”

“Would you come after me if I left?”

“Are you thinking of going somewhere?”

Jack didn’t answer. He merely wanted to rile his doctor up, and he figured he knew it was all just bullshitting. So he was surprised when Francis suddenly pulled him into a hug.

“I would,” he said gruffly.

“Even if I didn’t want you to?”

“Especially if you didn’t want me to, you little shit.”

Jack chuckled. His arms slid up Francis’ back as he pressed his face into the warm, hard contours of the doctor’s chest.

…

He’d only been back at the Institute for two days when he found out.

Jack stared at the headstone without comprehending the words engraved upon it. It was a lie. He knelt on the soggy ground and repeated this to himself over and over again.

Francis wasn’t buried beneath the black granite tombstone so clearly addressed to him. He wasn’t being feasted upon by whatever countless, creeping things lurked within the dark heart of the earth. The rain drummed hard against the top of Jack’s head, plastering his hair against his forehead. Water ran down his neck and into his collar. Francis was not dead. Jack felt his insides collapsing; he was turning inside out; he was going to be sick. Francis was not dead.

The raindrops dripped down the granite tombstone like tears.

The memories were crushing her now. Too much was spilling over into her mind. Sophia struggled to extricate herself, to breathe----

She cried out when she felt her knees hit the floor. She breathed heavily as her body was ransacked by emotions that weren’t her own. Her heart was shredded by a grief so overwhelming she thought she would black out. There was nothing but darkness, nothing but this bottomless ache. Then it was suddenly over, and she lay there gasping and trembling.

Clara, used to such displays by now, didn’t even bother looking up from her clipboard; she was feverishly taking notes. Jack was breathing heavily. His eyelids fluttered, and his brows pinched together. Sophia watched him anxiously as she rose to her feet, but he didn’t wake up.

“Sophia.” Clara’s voice was clipped.

“Yeah?” Sophia winced as her head gave a nasty throb. The edges of her vision were blurring. She staggered a little to the side and grabbed the headboard of the bed to prevent herself from falling down.

“You had amazing control, but you did something other than memory selection in there. What was it?”

“I…watched.”

That was all she had time to say before the room lurched and she collapsed face first onto the floor.

***

She awoke in the infirmary sometime later. Jude was sitting next to her bed, Val hovering anxiously by his side.

“We were visiting Simon when they brought you in,” he said when Sophia groggily opened her eyes . “What happened?”

Speaking low so as not to summon any of the nurses, Sophia told them about Jack’s memories of the room with the purple-flowered wallpaper. She didn’t mention Francis.

“You’re sure it was the same place Samantha was in?” Jude said.

“Yeah, positive. What if the shit they went through in that room is still going on today?”

“Aren’t early memories supposed to be unreliable though?” Val asked. “Maybe they both watched the same show or read the same book at one point, and the fiction made its way into their memory pipeline and distorted their real experiences.”

“Come on, Val, what are the odds of that?”

“Yesterday I got in a fight with a girl in the lobby because I made a reference to a Sailor Moon episode that I was positive I’d mentioned to her before, and she stared at me like I was a moron. I got so mad I flipped the coffee table. When actually---”

“Wait, where the hell was I during this?” Jude said, looking offended.

“In the bathroom working your way through the tacos we had for lunch.”

“Fuck. That’s right. Also, Sailor Moon, Val? Seriously?”

“Whatever. I cosplayed that shit for years. I slayed. Anyway, Soph, it turns out I hadn’t even met this girl. I mistook her for someone else I’d told that same story to.”

“Okay, but couldn’t that particular case be because you---” Sophia stopped.

Val grinned. “Because my mind is full of more holes these days than Swiss cheese? Fair enough. Look, I’m just saying you might not be able to trust what you saw, so there’s no reason to go all conspiracy theorist. And we don’t even know if that room with the purple flowers is in this building. It could be anywhere.”

“Why does any of this matter anyway?” Jude asked. “You can’t change what happened to those kids. And even if that room is somewhere around here, what do you think you can do? If you confront anyone here about it, they’ll just deny it.”

“If the room is real, I can gather evidence for the cops and---”

“Are you even listening to yourself? Why would the cops take someone like you seriously?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re checked into a ‘wellness’ facility, Sophia. Normal people would read that as code for ‘batshit crazy.’ They’ll think you’re nuts before you even get two words in.”

“Guys,” Val interjected. “Enough. There’s a bigger issue here. Why would Clara be bringing Sophia memories that incriminate this institution? If Sophia is right---shut up and let me finish, Jude---why would Clara want to reveal that this place tortured residents at one point?”

“Maybe she doesn’t know how much they actually remember,” Sophia said. “They both seemed pretty young at the time. The minds of the Basement kids are supposed to be broken beyond repair, right? It probably doesn’t even occur to her that I can see anything coherent.”

“Maybe,” Val said, still sounding unconvinced. “You think she’s that dumb? That she’s never considered the risk involved in letting you work on these kids?”

“I just think she constantly underestimates me.”

Val was silent at that. Jude looked at Sophia thoughtfully, then shrugged. “That’s fair. You’re totally crazy. It’s hard knowing what you’ll do next.”

“Says the vandal with shitloads of piercings.”

“It was a compliment. And at least I don’t have them in any weird areas.”

“Their placement isn’t the issue here, Jude.”

“I guess you’ll just have to see if Clara brings you any other Basement kids. Try to fit more pieces together that way,” Val interjected.

Sophia nodded and settled onto her pillows. Just then a man with a face the same pinkish hue as freshly cut salami poked his head around the corner.

“Visiting hours are almost over,” he said.

“Thanks, Hubert,” Jude said.

The man vanished. Jude and Val stood up. Val jiggled Sophia’s foot as she turned to leave.

“Get plenty of rest, ‘kay?”

“Will do.”

They walked away, leaving Sophia alone with her thoughts and still-throbbing head.