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2
Harper
The scentof clean linen fills my nose as my eyelids flutter open. My cheek rests against a sheet and I can tell I’m on a bed that reminds me all too much of a hospital bed.
Startled, I sit and look around the barren room. The horror of last night comes crashing in around me all at once and I make a choked kind of crying sound before sucking in a breath. I glance down at my hands expecting to see Sasha’s blood. No blood. No sign of my friend’s death. What if it didn’t actually happen?
For a second, I let myself believe that it was all a nightmare. And then the fact that I’m wearing someone else’s clothes rips me from that fantasy.
Instead of my usual jeans and tee shirt, I’m in some kind of white jumpsuit. It looks like something they’d have an inmate wear in an insane asylum. My veins fill with ice. Is that where I am?
I glance around the room again, trying to place what it might be. The room I’m in feels so sterile. White tile floors meet a white wall. A single white desk is pushed against one corner and a clipboard with paperwork hangs on the wall. To my right is a white metal door with a silver handle.
I swallow hard as I stare at the door. It’s the only way out of this windowless room and I’m not stupid enough to think it’s not being watched. The man who killed my friends must have brought me here. But where was here?
I have to admit, I expected a basement or a run down bathroom. This room actually scares me more. It looks organized and well cared for. Not the kind of room you expect to find yourself in after being kidnapped by a psychopath. Or a pair of them. What were they after? Why kill my friends and take me? None of it makes any sense.
What was it he had said to me? Something about an Academy? My mind whirs and panic wells up in my chest. Had I just been brought to some kind of cult? Or maybe this was a human trafficking ring.
Whatever it is, I’m not sticking around long enough to find out. Monitored or not, getting out that door is my only shot at freedom.
I stand and my head spins. Whatever he’d given me was likely still in my system. Even more reason to get out of here. Taking careful steps, I move toward the door and test the handle.
To my surprise, it turns without issue. Opening the door a crack, I peek out into a long plain hallway. More white tile, more white walls, more white doors.
The good news is that I don’t see any signs of other people.I don’t know when the psycho who brought me here will show back up so it’s now or never.
The cold tile is freezing under my bare feet but I try to ignore the discomfort as I pad down the hallway. I walk past door after door and wonder if there are other women in those rooms. Part of me wonders if I should let them out but the part of me that’s focused on my own self preservation is stronger. I can’t get out of here if I’m lugging others with me.
Feeling guilty, I pick up the pace. If I don’t open the doors to check, I have no way of knowing if there are even others here. For all I know, one of those doors could reveal the man with the gun. And there was no way in hell I wanted to run into him.
Footsteps sound from behind me and I tense. I’m no longer alone.
Risking a quick glance over my shoulder, I see a woman in a white dress. She’s unarmed and her blonde hair is pulled into a neat bun on the top of her head. Her brow furrows and she looks at me through her dark framed glasses. “What are you doing out of bed?”
I don’t know what she wants from me, but she’s clearly part of all of this. I don’t ask. I just run.
At the end of the hallway I find an elevator. Quickly, I push the down button figuring it’ll get me away from here.
The seconds seem to drag by as the lights on the elevator glow. There’s no indication of how many floors this place has.
“Harper Love, you’re not well enough to leave,” the woman’s voice chastises me as if I’m a misbehaving child.
The fact that she knows my full name makes this whole thing so much worse.
The elevator dings and the doors open. I step in, ignoring the woman who is calling for me to come back.
I slam my palm on the door close button and hit the ground level button. The doors close and the woman doesn’t follow me. Letting out a breath, I lean against the back of the elevator. It smells like bleach in here and the floor is covered in a rubbery material that has some bounce to it. My feet sink into it. At least it’s warmer than the tile floor.
The elevator keeps moving, the floor buttons lighting up as we pass each floor. I now know there are 13 levels to the building. It seems an odd number of floors but I don’t dwell on it. My mind is busy trying to figure out my next step. I’m in a white jumpsuit with no shoes and no phone. I can’t call for a ride and I look like I broke out of a hospital. I doubt I’d want a ride from anyone willing to pick me up like this.
Hopefully I’d find a nearby shop so I can call the cops. These murderers need to be stopped.
That thought makes my throat tighten. Were my friends really gone? I didn’t even have time to check them for a pulse or call in the violent act. Did all of that really happen? Or maybe I’m just crazy and I imagined the whole thing.
The elevator stops and with adingthe door opens.
A pair of violet eyes stare at me.
