Awake

THIRTY

Blood rushed to my head, and my heart rate accelerated. I looked over at Jake, noticing that he was standing in a way that meant he was blocking the door, blocking my only escape route. At least he met my eyes this time. His were filled with guilt.

"You bastard," said Paige. She was staring at Jake too, her small face twisted. I didn't say anything, feeling as if I'd been punched in the stomach. If he hadn't brought me here, I wouldn't be facing this ultimatum.

I'd thought he cared, at least a little. I won't make the same mistake again. It's clear that this rebellion comes before anyone else. I'm used to not being anyone's first priority, so this shouldn't surprise me. This shouldn't hurt. It doesn't.

I'll just have to prove myself - on my own terms, alone. I'm used to it. I'm used to having to prove myself. This isn't new. I don't know why I thought the unworld would be any different. I'm on my own. It's up to me.

Paige gripped my hand, crushing my fingers. "You go in there," she said. "And you survive." She glared up at me, her face hard.

I nodded for her benefit, and stepped closer to the coffin.

"Lie down," said Mila. "Put your head on the support." She pointed to a small elevated section at one end of the coffin. It was at the same end that Rao crouched, his long hands looking as if they were soldered to the outside of the box by his shard.

I put one foot in the coffin. It looked ridiculously narrow. I stepped in entirely, and sat. Mila remained leaning against the desk. Zoe hunkered down next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"When all the liquid rushes in," she said. "Don't freak out. It'll stop before you drown."

"What?" I met Jake's eyes again, frightened. He walked towards the coffin too, and gripped hold of the open lid.

Paige let go of my hand. I hadn't noticed she was still holding it. "Don't die," she said.

Zoe's grip tightened, and she pushed me backwards. I lay down. My shoulders almost brushed the sides of the coffin. I took short breaths, already feeling trapped, constrained.

I stared at Jake, my fists clenched. My shard unwound from my wrist and shaped itself into a ball, which I gripped. It was comforting.

Jake gazed down at me and started to lift the lid of the box from where it was hanging at the side.

"Just remember," he said. "It isn't real."

Then he closed the lid.

I was left in darkness. The top of the coffin was just millemeters from my face. I could feel the heat of my own breath reflecting off the metal and back towards me. The darkness was so impenetrable it felt like a solid force pressed against my skin. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed. I tried to reach up to touch my eyelids - but the box was so tight, I couldn't move my arms. Couldn't sit up. Couldn't turn, couldn't do anything.

My breath thinned in my throat. Was the air growing stale?

I tried to calm myself. I tried to listen for sounds outside. Nothing. I could hear nothing. Not the hum of electricity, no voices. Nothing but silence, and my own breath, even that sounding distant.

It was like a sensory deprivation chamber, I thought. Everything cut off - me, left alone. Nothing but my thoughts.

At least, I reasoned to myself, trying to slow my racing mind and pulse, I could feel the slight coolness of the metal against my skin. I could feel my legs, back and neck resting against the base of the box.

As though the thought had prompted it, I felt a strange sensation against my heels. Something pushed against them.

I gasped and tried to move my feet away, hitting my head.