It was inevitable and yet Anya could not accept it. She had delusional hopes that Damian would remain ignorant, that they'd be rescued before he could figure it out, which was ridiculous. She was desperate to keep her secrets to herself, to prevent Damian from piecing things together. She should have been more careful. He'd learned things over the past few weeks and she should have hampered it. But how could she prevent him from overhearing that story, from noticing her little ticks, from going out of his way to dig into, what anyone else would call, her weird personality?
She didn't know, but she should have. He wouldn't know what this place was if she had.
He'd said those six little words, unsteadily, quietly, and the impact of it was stronger than he could ever understand.
What did she do now? He was in the heart of all her secrets, all she kept hidden, and she felt as if her walls, her life, her entire being, was peeling off to lay vulnerable her dearest secrets. She found herself cold. Her layers and layers of protection were stripped away and she didn't know what to do without them. How did she defend against coming attacks when she had no more shields? How did she protect what she had left when, now, they were only veiled by a screen door?
Damian was smart. She was well aware. It wouldn't take much to tip him off to her most preciously guarded truth that she had surrounded with lies, redirects, subtle manipulations, and more lies. How was it possible she'd kept it so carefully safe for so long and now everyone held a key to the chest it was carried in to show Damian at any second?
He was ready to flee, escape on his mind, and at least she had that. The distraction of fear and franticness to halt his processes however twisted it was. He wasn't thinking clearly and if he was, he might deduce more from the situation. She just had to hold out until her parents got here. Until they were free and her secrets were safe again.
No. It wouldn't work like that. In fact it might be worse. He'd be more calm. He'd have time to sort things through, and while he might not get to the core of it, he'd discover things that even her parents didn't know. They didn't matter as much, but they still mattered.
After this, Damian would be on an escalator guaranteed to reach the top and Anya didn't think she could stop it. She was in a lose-lose situation and it terrified her.
What did she do? What could she do?
It seized her tightly, hoping against hope against hope that she could ward this off. She clung to any vestige of composure remaining before she threw herself into another panic attack and stuffed her thoughts deep, deep, down out of sight. Her chest shuddered when she breathed and her hands shook terribly. They pressed each other into her lap and then Kai yelled her name.
"ANYA!"
She jumped and nearly fell from her seat, her thoughts swept away in new fears.
WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Kai yelled as if it was the force of his words that burst the door open, and the kids collectively shrank from his enraged entrance. He gripped the doorknob as if he might tear it off, while the other braced on the frame. His fast march to the cafeteria had left him huffing angrily and she had never seen him so incensed. His eyes were dangerously wild, pinning Anya in all his wrath, and she curled protectively inwards, immediately looking away. She couldn't move as Damian did, backing down the length of the table when Kai approached, and grasped the seat's edge as if it could offer support. It didn't help the tremors much.
More than saw him, she felt Kai move opposite to her and spread his hands wide to lean over the table.
"What." He ground out, a gravelly tone punctuating each phonetic. "Did. You. Do?" He had levelled her with a glare when she peeked up and he felt very large as he occupied her field of vision. A dark cloud storming with lightning ready to crack.
Anya dared not hold his gaze and fidgeted nervously with the bench's lip. She knew what he was talking about, but he wasn't supposed to know anything about it.
Something had gone wrong. They had to be fine, they had to, they had to, they had to. They weren't regular people after all, and the director wouldn't be so angry if they weren't okay.
The thought kept her together, though she could feel herself shrivelling. She knew he would make her pay for this and he had probably already planned to. He'd just been too busy to deal with her. She prayed and prayed that that was still the case. Just a little longer. . .
"Anya." His voice grated. "WHERE IS IT?!" He shouted suddenly and Anya jolted, closing her eyes tight as his palm banged loudly on the table. The trays clattered and the plastic utensils bounced. She covered her face with her hands as if they could hide her from him.
The director's voice dipped low again and dredged every bit of fury with it, his words compacted into a quieter tone as if there was too much to contain. "You have to the count of ten." He didn't say what happened after. He didn't need to. He didn't bother counting out loud, either, as Anya hid for another moment behind her hands, because he knew she would listen.
With her vision blurred by watery eyes, Anya slowly retracted her hands and took the edge of her sleeve. She folded it back, her fingers not so nimble, up to her elbow where a strip of cloth was wrapped around her upper forearm. There was small lump, that when revealed as she took off the strip, was a small, black, square disk about the width of her wrist. Her Papa had given it to her and she didn't want to relinquish it, but she breathed deeply, shuddering a tired whimper as emotions swelled in her throat, and placed it on the table.
Kai stared at it, unmoving. Then with none of the haste Anya expected, reached for it and dragged it towards him. It slid and scraped against the old marred surface and he let his hand rest there while he considered the object he held. It tapped against the table as his hand flipped over, pinning it underneath, and he looked back to Anya. "You have been making very bad choices lately." He said through gritted teeth. "That's going to have to change." He held eye contact as he called for Fisher and only when she appeared in the doorway did it break. He pushed off the table, taking the disk with him. "Lock these two up until I can deal with them." He spat as he strode briskly to the door. "And make it quick! I need you immediately!" He demanded, already in the hallway.
Anya was lifted out of her seat before she could move and Fisher grabbed a dazed Damian's wrist. They were whisked down the halls and Agent Fisher stopped at the door that Kai had opened earlier. The wheel was turned, the lock was unlocked, and Fisher pulled on the handle.
The rush here was discombobulating and when the metal cranked, Anya found herself sweating.
They were pushed inside quickly, and the door thudded closed behind them. Anya spun at the sound, the lock system settling firmly in place, then Fisher rushing down the hall.
For a long moment she faced the door that looked identical to her previous one. The one she'd spent countless hours behind, countless mornings staring at, knowing it'd be opened soon and she'd be pulled out to "study" or "work". It'd blocked her freedom and now she almost wished it'd stay closed. She wanted to hide, turn out the lights, and believe she could be forgotten here in the dark. A hole in the ground where Kai wouldn't be able to find her.
He'd included Damian in his threats, he would get hurt too. If the director got here first. . . .what was she going to do? Wouldn't it mean her parents were hurt? Or. . . .worse. . . ?
No, she couldn't think like that. Her parents were coming, she'd be fine, they'd be fine.
She turned from the door and the room was exactly like her old one minus the window and the stool. A cot sat in the corner and a door presumably led to a washroom.
And here she was once more. It was like she never left.
She changed her mind as she looked at the door again. She wanted it to open. She didn't want to be here again. Again. Again, again, again. Why couldn't she just keep her life away from the lab?! She felt like she were cursed and every time she thinks she's escaped, it swallows her whole.
Anya took a steadying breath and clutched at her uniform. No. Calm down. Her parents were coming. They were fine, they had to be. They'd be here soon. It was all that was keeping her sane.
She fought down the tears that tried to pop up at the sight of this place and distracted herself. She stared at the floor as she paced to one side of the room and then the other. Her nose was wet and she sniffled. Her legs stung and she realized her nails dug fiercely into them. She paused and looked at them. Her uniform relaxed as she let go and stared at her hands that gripped each other.
How much longer? When would her parents come? When, when, when, when? In ten minutes? An hour? Where were they? They had to already be here somewhere if the director knew of the device she'd had. They didn't know the layout of the lab. It was different than the last one. Were they lost? Were they found? The alarms weren't going, they weren't inside the lab yet. This made her more anxious. How were they going to get inside? How would they get past those big doors? Was there another entrance somewhere? If there was, they'd find it. They'd figure something out. They'd be here soon, stop worrying, they'd be here soon, they'd be here soon. If they didn't. . .
The whip. . .
No! They'd be here soon, they'd be here soon, they'd be here soon.
She paced the room again.
"Um . . ." Damian whispered hoarsely and Anya startled upright. She had forgotten him again, so absorbed in her thoughts.
He fidgeted in place. ". . . What does he mean he'll deal with us?" And his eyes flicked nervously to her bandaged arm.
Anya had forgotten that too and her heart skipped a beat. He'd noticed. She pulled the sleeve back down and hugged her shoulders.
She couldn't look at him. It made her anxious. Uncomfortable. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to know anything, learn about any of this. What did she tell him? She didn't want to tell him anything, but he was anxious as well. Should she mention her parents? That they were coming? No, to him they were a psychiatrist and a civil worker, he wouldn't believe her until he saw them. Because what sense did it make that two regular civilians could rescue them? What did that leave her with? How did she make him feel better? He'd been trying to comfort her this entire time and Anya didn't know how to return it.
It was weird. Half the time, she thought he hated her, and now he was making her question it all over again. She could read his mind, but she didn't understand him at all. He was confusing.
He was waiting for an answer. He was frustrated with her. She held everything he wanted to know, needed to know, and she kept it from him.
She couldn't tell him. She couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't. Guilt had little sway over this decision, her fear and desperation were much stronger. "Um. . ." Her voice trembled at the floor. What did she say? It wouldn't be a lie to say she didn't know. She didn't. She knew what would happen to her, but Kai might punish him differently.
This wasn't fair. Sy-on boy had nothing to do with this. But since when did the director care?
"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Damian said quietly.
Anya looked up and his face was drawn. His words were edged with tired bitterness and he wanted to be angry with her, but his heart wasn't quite in it. He'd come to the conclusion that Anya would shut him out of this as much as possible a while ago and it wore on him. He resented it.
She couldn't help it and averted her gaze again. He wasn't wrong. She was at loss. She had no consoling words, no explanations she could readily give, and no help to offer. If anything happened to him, she'd be useless and that scared her too.
Damian scoffed and sat against the wall next to the door. It was his turn to hug his legs and rest a chin on his knees. He was too distressed to pursue a pointless argument.
Anya had to do something. She was being unfair and she knew it. Damian deserved some sort of explanation, but she couldn't come up with anything. Everything was either too tied to her secrets, or. . . something she could never say out loud.
She wanted to cry as she stared at her hands.
Damian wasn't supposed to be involved.
What did she do?