Ella waited. The dim fluorescent light, the closest her prison of a room ever got to dark, cast long shadows that stretched and danced on the bare walls. She sat on the edge of the narrow bed, its thin mattress offering little comfort, her gaze fixed on the door. It was a blank, metal slab, no handle on her side, just a small rectangular slot for a keycard. Her hands clutched a small, worn green duffel bag. Inside were a change of clothes—provided for her, itchy and ill-fitting—and a few precious other items, the only things she’d managed to keep from them. The only things she could truly call her own.

The black pants and gray shirt she wore chafed, the rough seams scratching against her skin. Too many pockets, useless and bulky, weighed down the fabric. The material trapped the heat, making her feel feverish. She didn’t fidget, though. She sat ramrod straight, as if any movement, even a blink, might shatter the fragile anticipation that held her together. 

Panel three, behind the dumpster. That’s where I need to be. 

The thought echoed in her mind, a mantra against the rising fear.

Minutes stretched into an eternity. Then, finally, the crisp click of heels echoed in the hallway outside, stopping abruptly at her door. The beep of a keycard, the soft whir of the lock disengaging, and the door swung inward, revealing a tall silhouette. The hallway light, glaringly bright after the dimness of her room, haloed the figure, obscuring their features.

“Chris?” Her voice, thin and reedy from disuse, echoed in the small space.

“Shhh.” Chris stepped inside, closing the door quickly behind him, cutting off most of the light. The room plunged back into near darkness. “If anyone hears us…” He ran a hand through his thinning white hair, then rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, a gesture that reminded Ella of a man feeling for a noose.

Ella gave a sharp nod. 

“Recite the plan.” His voice was low, urgent.

“Western fence. Panel three. Behind the dumpster.” She repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

“Good. The cameras in that quad will be down for network maintenance in,” he glanced at his watch, the faint glow illuminating his face for a split second, revealing the lines of worry etched there. “Four minutes. The hallway cameras are already offline.”

“What about my family?” The words caught in her throat, a painful lump.

Chris sighed, a sound heavy with resignation. “We’ve been over this, Ella. There’s no way I can get all three of you out without raising alarms.”

“Three?” The single word was a choked sob. She knew what it meant.

“It’s too late for your brother. I did what I could.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but Ella saw a flicker of something in his eyes—pity? Regret?

“What about my mother?” A single tear escaped and traced a hot path down her cheek. She swiped at it angrily. “There has to be another way.”

Chris shook his head, then pulled a black hooded cloak from inside his jacket and tossed it to her. The fabric felt rough and heavy in her hands. “Put this on.”

She stared at the cloak, her mind reeling. This was it. This was really happening. How could she leave them behind? “Then I’m not going.” She took a step back, her hand instinctively going to the small bag at her feet.

“Do you know what your mother risked for this?” Chris stepped closer, his grip on her upper arms firm, but not painful. “There’s no time. It’s now or never.”

“Tell them…” Her voice cracked. “Tell them I’ll come back.”

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“No!” Chris’s grip tightened for a moment, then relaxed. “Get as far from this place as you can. Never look back.” He gently but firmly steered her towards the door.

Ella draped the cloak around her shoulders, the heavy fabric a strange comfort. She hesitated at the door, her fingers tightening on the metal frame. She turned back to Chris, who stood in the shadows, his face obscured. He looked smaller somehow, the hallway light casting him in a vulnerable light. She had to thank him. She had to tell him… But the words caught in her throat.

Chris must have seen the question in her eyes. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, then reached into his pocket. Before Ella could react, he pressed a tranquilizer gun against his own neck and squeezed the trigger. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of understanding passing between them, then he stumbled, his hand flying to his neck. He crumpled to his knees, then slumped against the side of her bed, his breathing shallow.

A wave of nausea washed over Ella. She wanted to scream, to run to him, but she knew there was no time. He did this for me. The thought echoed in her mind, a heavy weight. She pulled the hood of the cloak over her head, shielding her face, and slipped out into the brightly lit hallway.

She pressed her back against the cool wall, peeking around the corner. The hallway stretched out before her, empty and sterile, white tiles reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights. A low hum emanated from somewhere deep within the building. She took a deep breath, the stale air filling her lungs, and stepped out into the open.

She moved quickly, her footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. She ducked beneath the rectangular windows of a set of double doors, the glass cold against her back. Just as she was about to move on, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the air from inside the room. It was a raw, animalistic sound filled with terror and pain.

Ella froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She pressed herself against the wall again, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, cautiously, she raised her head and peered through the window.

The scene inside made her stomach churn. Strapped to a metal gurney, a woman with wild, tangled red hair—the same shade as her own—thrashed against the restraints. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes wide with fear. Two figures in white lab coats stood on either side of her. One held a vial of dark red liquid, the other a syringe filled with a swirling, sickly green substance.

Mom. 

The realization hit Ella like a physical blow. She hadn’t seen her mother in years, but she knew that face. Thinner, more fragile, but undeniably her mother. Ella’s breath hitched. Her eyes were drawn to the syringe, the green liquid seeming to glow under the harsh lights. She wanted to scream, to burst into the room and save her, but she knew she couldn’t.

A door slammed down the hallway, the sound snapping Ella back to reality. She had to go. Now. There was no time. No going back. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. I’ll come back for you. I promise. She whispered the vow, her voice barely audible, then turned and ran, her cloak billowing behind her.

She reached the end of the long, bare hallway. The exit door loomed ahead, a beacon of hope. She glanced up at the surveillance camera mounted above the door. The small power light was dark, just as Chris had promised. She sprinted the last few steps and pushed the heavy door open, bursting out into the cool night air.

The sudden change was disorienting. The darkness was profound, a stark contrast to the bright lights of the building. A cool breeze tugged at her hair beneath the hood, sending shivers down her spine. She stumbled for a moment, her senses overwhelmed. She was out in the open, exposed. A primal urge to retreat back into the familiar, sterile hallways tugged at her.

Western fence. Panel three. Dumpster. 

She repeated the instructions in her head, grounding herself. She scanned the high fence topped with barbed wire, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Finally, she spotted it: the rusted dumpster, its shadow stretching long in the moonlight. The light above it flickered intermittently. She waited, watching for any sign of movement, then sprinted towards it, her heart pounding in her chest.

She slipped behind the dumpster, her breath catching in her throat. Just as Chris had said, several links of the fence had been cut, creating a rough opening. She pushed her way through, the sharp edges of the wire snagging at her cloak. She was almost free, almost through, when something tugged sharply on the fabric at her back.

Panic surged through her. Far off voices, distorted by the night air, drifted towards her. She could feel the fabric of her cloak tightening, holding her fast. She gripped the edge of the fence, pulling with all her might, but it was no use. She was trapped.

“Hey, we’ve got an issue over here.” The voices grew closer, louder. Ella’s heart pounded in her ears like a drum. “This door wasn’t closed.”

“Should we call it in?”

Ella bit down hard on her lip, clenching her teeth against the rising fear. She didn’t wait for their answer. With a desperate surge of strength, she yanked forward, the fabric of the cloak tearing with a loud rip. Free of the fence, she stumbled forward, then broke into a full sprint, heading towards the dark tree line in the distance, leaving behind the only home she had ever known.