Aiyana Red Elk — Point of View
The clinic room was quiet again. Not silent — nothing was ever silent — but quiet enough that Aiyana could hear her own breathing. Slow. Uneven. Real. Samantha sat beside her, not touching her, just present. Eliza stood near the door, giving space but staying close. Aiyana swallowed. Her throat still hurt. But she wanted to try. She wanted to help. She wanted them to know.
“Can… can I tell you something?” she whispered.
Samantha leaned in gently. “Only if you want to.”
Aiyana nodded, eyes unfocused, as she searched for the right words. “It was… the South Room.”
###
Samantha Wolf-Iverson — Point of View
Samantha didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t push. She let the words settle. “Okay,” she whispered. “What do you remember about it?”
Aiyana’s fingers curled into the blanket. No fear — grounding. “It was… low,” she whispered. “The ceiling. I could touch it if I stood on the bed.”
Samantha exchanged a glance with Eliza — subtle, careful. Aiyana continued. “And… no windows. Not even little ones. Just walls.” She paused, breath trembling. “And the door… it was metal. But not like the other doors. This one had… lines.”
“Lines?” Samantha asked gently.
Aiyana nodded. “Like… scratches. But not from us. From… keys? Or… something sharp.” She shook her head, frustrated by the limits of her memory. “I don’t know.”
“You’re doing great,” Samantha said.
###
Aiyana Red Elk — Point of View
Aiyana closed her eyes. She could see it — not clearly, not fully, but enough. “There was a… hum,” she whispered. “Like… machines. Not loud. Just… always there.”
Eliza stepped closer, voice soft. “Like electricity?”
Aiyana nodded. “Yes. Like… the walls were buzzing.”
She swallowed. “And the lights… they flickered. Not all the time. Just… sometimes. When they walked by.”
“Who?” Samantha asked, still gently.
Aiyana’s breath hitched. She didn’t say their names. She didn’t have their names. “People,” she whispered. “Not the kids. The others.”
She opened her eyes, tears gathering in them. “They didn’t talk to us. They talked to each other. But… not loud. Like… they didn’t want us to hear.”
Samantha’s heart tightened. “What did you hear?” she asked softly.
Aiyana hesitated. Then: “Numbers.”
###
Eliza Morningstar — Point of View
Eliza felt the air shift. “Numbers?” she repeated quietly.
Aiyana nodded. “They said… ‘South Two’… and ‘South Four’… and… ‘South Six.’”
Eliza’s pulse quickened. Levels. Rooms. A structure. Aiyana continued, voice trembling. “And… sometimes… they said… ‘Move her.’”
Samantha steadied her voice. “Move who?”
Aiyana looked down. “Me.”
###
Aiyana Red Elk — Point of View
She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to remember. But she did. “They moved me,” she whispered. “Not far. Just… to another room. But it was still… South.”
She swallowed hard. “And the hallway… it was long and cold. And… the floor was shiny. Like… like water.”
Samantha nodded slowly. “Tile?”
Aiyana nodded. “Yes. White. But… dirty.”
She closed her eyes again. “And the South Room… it had a smell.”
“What kind of smell?” Eliza asked gently.
Aiyana’s face tightened. “Like… bleach. And… something else. Something… old.”
She didn’t have the word. She didn’t need it. Eliza did.
###
Eliza Morningstar — Point of View
Eliza exhaled slowly. A cleaning agent. And something organic. Decay. Or confinement. She kept her voice steady. “Aiyana,” she said softly, “you’re helping us more than you know.”
Aiyana looked up, eyes wet. “Am I… in trouble?”
Samantha’s voice broke before she caught it. “No,” she whispered. “You’re safe. And you’re not in trouble. Never.”
Aiyana nodded slowly, letting the words settle. She leaned back against the pillows, exhausted. But calmer. More grounded. And for the first time, she wasn’t just remembering. She was telling.