Unbind me

chapter 6

But here... here it's different.

I glance over at the empty bookshelf. A strange, hollow sensation twists in my chest. I've always found comfort in books, in the ability to escape to a world outside my own. The fact that it's bare feels deliberate. They want me restless, unanchored. They want me to feel the absence of comfort.

My thoughts drift to Juliette. It's been days since I've seen or heard her. The memory of her screams from the asylum feels distant, like something out of a dream, but I can't shake the unease that follows it. She's here somewhere. I know it. The question is, what are they doing to her?

The notebook sits on the desk, its cover worn and familiar. I run my fingers over it, flipping through the pages filled with my hurried scribbles. Words spill out of me—half-thoughts, fragmented sentences, questions I don't dare say out loud. It's the only outlet I have, the only way to make sense of the chaos swirling in my mind.

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The sound of the door unlocking jolts me from my thoughts. My body tenses automatically, a reflex I've developed from years of being on edge. The door creaks open, and to my surprise, it's not Kenji or Warner. It's another guard. He steps inside, his face expressionless beneath the standard-issue uniform.

"You're being moved," he says gruffly.

I blink, my mind scrambling to process his words. "Moved where?"

He doesn't answer, simply steps aside and motions for me to follow. For a moment, I hesitate, my eyes flickering to the camera. It's still watching. Always watching. With a deep breath, I stand and follow the guard out into the hallway.

The corridors are silent and eerily empty. The walls are the same dull gray, the lighting dim and clinical. I try to keep track of where we're going, counting the turns and noting the doors we pass, but it's impossible. Everything looks the same. It's a maze designed to disorient, to confuse.

We stop in front of a door that looks no different from the others. The guard punches in a code, and the lock clicks open. He steps aside, motioning for me to enter.

The room inside is different from the one I was in before. It's larger, with a small table and two chairs in the center. The lighting is brighter, almost harsh. There's a mirror on one wall, and I know instinctively it's one-way glass. Someone is watching.

"Sit," the guard orders.

I comply, my heart pounding in my chest. The door closes behind me with a heavy thud, and I'm left alone in the room. The silence is oppressive, the kind that wraps around you and makes it hard to breathe.

I don't know how long I sit there, staring at the table, waiting. Minutes? Hours? Time feels meaningless here.

Finally, the door opens again, and Warner walks in.

He's just as polished and composed as before, his sharp features and piercing eyes cutting through the room like a blade. He moves with purpose, his every step deliberate, and when he sits across from me, it's as if the air shifts.

"Seraphina," he says, his voice smooth and commanding. "I trust you're settling in."

I don't respond. My hands grip the edge of the chair, my knuckles white.

He leans back, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. "You don't have to be afraid of me, you know."

I almost laugh at that. Afraid? Anger flares in my chest, but I bite it back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"I know you have questions," he continues, his tone calm, measured. "And I intend to give you answers. But first, I need to know something."

His gaze locks onto mine, and it feels like he's peeling back the layers of my mind, searching for something hidden. "How much do you remember about your powers?"

My breath catches, and for a moment, I can't speak. The question is like a slap, unexpected and jarring. He knows. Of course he knows. But hearing him say it out loud feels like a violation.

"I don't—" My voice cracks, and I force myself to start again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Warner's lips curve into a faint smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes. "You're not a very good liar, Seraphina."

I clench my jaw, my mind racing. What does he want from me? Why does it matter?

"You've felt it, haven't you?" he presses, his tone softening. "The way the air shifts when you're angry. The way the ground trembles under your feet when you lose control. You've barely scratched the surface of what you're capable of."

I shake my head, my throat tightening. "You're wrong."

He leans forward, his expression unreadable. "Am I?"

The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. My pulse pounds in my ears, and for a moment, I think the room itself might start shaking. But nothing happens.

Warner straightens, his composure returning. "Think about what I've said," he says, standing. "We'll talk again soon."

Without another word, he leaves the room, the door closing behind him with a finality that sends a shiver down my spine.

I sit there, staring at the empty space he left behind, and for the first time in a long while, I feel something close to fear. Not for what he might do to me, but for what he might make me do to myself.

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