I step into one of the bathrooms. Let’s just get this over with.
The sting of disinfectant burns my nose. Around me, people complain and shout, and beneath it all the unmistakable sound of piss hitting porcelain.
How the hell did my perfect weekend turn into this nightmare?
Fuck.
My knuckles press into the cold marble wall.
“Hurry up!” a voice snaps from the hallway. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Arcadia is supposed to be a healing centre. With all these cops barking orders, it feels more like a prison.
Everything that made me feel safe in Arcadia is gone.Or maybe it was never real in the first place.
I exhale slowly. There’s nothing left to do but accept my fate.
I open the cup, filling it is easily, not exactly my first time.
I screw the lid back on.
Then I look at the label, and my heart drops for the third time today.
McKenna, Thomas James.
His name. His registration number.
On my cup.
No.
No, no, no.
This can’t be happening.
Tears well up fast.
Tom created the chaos to switch our cups so my sample would be clean, and his…
I stare at the label. The letters blur. I don’t remember him taking the cup. I never felt it.
Why, Sapphire?
Why would you do this?
A hard knock rattles the door.
I scrub at my face and pull myself together. A second later, I step out.
I can’t stop looking at the cup. When I hand it over, I watch them drop it into a bin with the others. No checking. No second identification process.
I swallow hard.
And just like that, I’m escorted back outside.
Sunlight blinds my eyes, and by the time I can actually see again, the place is a war zone.
Guests are panicking, staff are getting arrested while protesting. People try to escape Arcadia, but guards stop them.
