Inside the cold, concrete walls of the prison, Emma sat on the edge of her bunk, staring out through the narrow bars of her cell. The days had dragged on endlessly since she and Bryan had been separated from Stella. At first, she tried to keep her mind focused on escape, on ways to reunite with her mother, but lately, her thoughts had been slipping into darker places. Something wasn't right, and she could feel it in the marrow of her bones.
It had started a few days ago—at least, she thought it was a few days. Time had become a blur in the prison. At night, when everything was supposed to be silent, Emma began hearing whispers, faint at first, just outside her cell. The guards had mentioned nothing about it, and neither had the other inmates. At first, she thought it was her imagination, but as the days passed, the whispers grew louder. Sometimes she swore they were calling her name.
"Emma..."
