Soft piano.
Children humming.
The same song over and over and over until it starts crawling beneath my skin like something alive.
I can’t breathe.
The gas burns cold in my lungs while the red emergency lights pulse across the nursery walls.
Red room.
Red lights.
Punishment conditioning.
My body starts reacting before my brain can catch up.
Hands shaking.
Vision blurring.
Heart slowing.
Oh God.
No.
Not again.
“Stay awake!”
Clay’s voice crashes through the haze as he catches me tighter against him.
His arm wraps around my waist, holding me upright while the room tilts violently sideways.
I hear gunfire somewhere far away.
Children crying.
Russ shouting orders.
But the lullaby keeps swallowing everything else.
“You are safe.”
The words whisper through hidden speakers.
“You are compliant.”
No.
NO.
My breathing fractures.
Because suddenly I’m not twenty-eight anymore.
I’m small again.
