PANIC ROOM • KENJI KON

LXXVIII. Together

"What are you thinking?" Mr. Kon asked Kenji. "I just got you back, and you're needlessly risking your life when the BRADs could do the job?"

"Hey, guys?" Ben called. "Mae's not doing so well."

Eva finally noticed Ben and Yaz at the adult's side, both sporting worry-stricken faces.

"I think she reopened her wounds."

"I'll get her to the med bay, and put Kash somewhere he can't hurt anyone. I'll be back soon, and we can figure out how to get you home."

"I'll come with you," Kenji insisted.

"Later, son. You get cleaned up with your friends. The investors' suite on Level 2 is well stocked. Feel free to use anything you need."

"Feel free?" Sammy questioned. "Oh my gosh, we can walk around like people!" She bumped into a BRAD, nervously looking it up and down.

"I have so much to tell you," Kenji said, watching his father closely.

Mr. Kon stepped forward and placed his hands on his shoulders. "And I can't wait to hear all of it."

Eva's heart ached— or maybe it was her wounds— but she wondered what it would be like to see her Oma and Opa again. Would they be happy she survived? Would they want to hear everything, or would it be just another thing they push to the side?

Mr. Kon stepped away, and Kenji turned to the campers. "Everything's gonna be okay, guys."

~~~

Sammy and Darius pushed open a set of doors, revealing a large, open dining type room filled with chairs, couches, and benches. Brooklynn and Eva followed closely behind, gasping upon seeing the grand room for the first time.

"All that time, and you didn't know this was here?" Sammy asked in shock.

"There were a lot of locked doors," Darius defended.

"Still no phones, though," Brooklynn murmured.

"Guys!" Ben shouted. The quadruple ran to the hallway. "We get our own rooms!"

Eva popped the door of her room and slid inside. The room held a queen sized bed fitted with a dark blue duvet and gold highlights. There was artwork above the bed— abstract golden orange and black. The end of the room was a bit of a relaxing area with two couches, a coffee table, and a flat screen TV.

She approached the bed, her fingers scratching against the soft fabric of the duvet. She gasped, continuously running her fingers over the bedding. It was almost like they were home again. Almost.

Eva wandered over to the bathroom, where she came face to face with clean, fluffy white towels and a fancy, real shower. She also came face to face with herself— a big mirror overtaking the space over the sink. Her blonde hair was so greasy it was falling in strings and looked more brown than blonde. Her body was caked with mud and littered with dozens of little cuts and scrapes: some healing, some fresh. The dark circles under her eyes were so loud, so prominent, it looked as though she hadn't slept in days. Dried blood stuck to the edge of her ear, her lips, her hairline. How they even got there, Eva had no clue.

She slowly stripped from her clothes, hesitated, then looked at her chest in the mirror, too. Her bruises were mostly green-yellow, but there were new ones forming that were back to the scary, blue-red shades she grew to fear. The bruises started at her belly button on the right side of her body, and grew all the way up past her bra and toward her collarbone.

Eva slipped off her shoes and socks, then slid off her shorts. Even her underwear was dirty. Even her bra had stains and blood caked into it. She took off her last garments, then stepped into the shower, flicking it on to warm, then hot.