The days began to blur together as we settled into the routine of the second phase. Training sessions were relentless—each day brought new endurance tests and skill drills that pushed us to our limits. Despite the exhaustion, I couldn't help but notice familiar faces from our original group. Aiden, Jonah, and even Kai were scattered throughout the sessions, always visible in passing or across the room. We hadn't really spoken since the cafeteria incident, but their presence, strange as it was, felt oddly comforting. Distant, yet grounding in a way I couldn't quite explain. It was something I hated to admit.
Today, we were outside for a change. The crisp air bit at my skin as I stepped into the exercise yard with the others. The rules were simple: we were encouraged to participate in any workout we wanted—run laps, lift weights, practice drills—but no one was forced to do anything they didn't feel like doing. The freedom should have felt liberating, but something about it just felt… off.
A trainer stood near the track, shouting encouragement at the few who had already started their laps. Others spread out across the yard, lifting weights or stretching in quiet corners. From a distance, I spotted Kai. His strong form lifted a barbell with ease, his focus sharp and unwavering, as usual.
Without thinking, I fell in step with a small group that had begun jogging. My body moved automatically, almost like instinct. My feet hit the track in a steady rhythm, my heartbeat syncing with the pounding of my shoes on the ground. For a moment, I was on autopilot, disconnected from everything except the motion of running.
And then… I stopped.
Not gradually, but abruptly, like something inside me had snapped. I stood still in the middle of the track, breathing heavily, staring blankly ahead as if I'd forgotten why I'd even started. I don't know why I began jogging in the first place. Memories tugged at me—how I used to work out before it happened. The pause lingered, heavy, as I tried to brush it off.
Others continued running, oblivious to my sudden halt, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted inside me, like a part of me had fell apart without warning. My mind went blank, and before I knew it, I was turning around, walking away from the track as if guided by some invisible force.
I wandered off, away from the rhythmic pounding of feet, away from the endless repetitions of their movements. Eventually, I found a bench at the far edge of the yard and sat down. I stared into the distance, but my mind wasn't with me. It was somewhere else. A strange, hollow sensation grew inside me. It was distant, foggy, but powerful enough to stop me cold.
My heart thudded in my chest, but this time, it wasn't from physical exertion. It was something deeper. Memories rushed in—memories I didn't want to claim.
Instinctively, I reached into my pocket, searching for something—anything—to chew on. But my fingers came up empty. No candy. No snacks. The realization sent a sharp jolt through me, and that's when I noticed the trembling.
My hands were shaking. My chest tightened as a cold wave of panic spread through me. I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself, but the trembling only got worse. I wasn't supposed to feel like this. I was always in control—calm, detached, unbothered. But now, sitting there, trembling uncontrollably, I could feel the cracks spreading wider.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone watching me.
Kai.
He was standing by the weights, his barbell set aside. His eyes were locked on me, narrowed in either concern or curiosity—I couldn't tell. He had been lifting just moments ago, but now his focus was entirely on me. He must've seen it all: the sudden stop, my quiet retreat, the way I sat here now, trembling like I'd lost all control.
I quickly looked away, the urge to hide overwhelming me. I didn't want him—or anyone—seeing me like this, so exposed, so vulnerable. But it was too late. He had already seen.
Kai didn't approach or say anything. He just stood there, watching from a distance, probably wondering what was wrong with me. For a moment, anger flared inside me, a sharp desire to tell him to mind his own business. But the words wouldn't come.
Instead, I forced myself to take slow, deliberate breaths, trying to calm the shaking in my hands. I needed something to ground me, to pull me back from the edge, but without my usual stash of snacks, there was nothing.
So I sat there, trembling, staring at nothing, while Kai watched from across the yard.
I hated this. I hated that I had let my guard down, even for a moment. Hated that someone had witnessed it. But more than anything, I hated how I felt right now—powerless, exposed, like I was falling apart from the inside out.
I shifted, moving further away from where Kai could see me. I found a secluded corner and sat down again, hoping to escape his gaze. The panic swelled, my mind spiraling, my breaths shallow and rapid. The world around me faded away as my thoughts swirled into chaos.
Moments later, I felt a hand on my shoulder, gentle yet firm. I flinched, startled, and turned to find him standing there. In his other hand, he held a small snack—an unopened chocolate granola bar and a rice crispy treat. He didn't say much, just a quiet, "Here."
For a moment, I just stared at the food in his hand, too overwhelmed to respond. Then, without thinking, I took it from him. Slowly, I unwrapped the granola bar and took a bite. The chocolate hit my tongue, rich and sweet, grounding me in the present moment. The taste distracted me, pulling me away from the memories I was trying so hard to push down.
Kai sat beside me, silent, as I ate. The tremors in my hands began to subside, my breathing slowed, and the tightness in my chest loosened just enough for me to breathe more easily. I glanced over at him, unsure of what to say, but grateful all the same.
It wasn't a dramatic moment. There were no grand gestures, no deep conversations. Just two people sitting together, in a comfortable silence.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel completely alone.
"I didn't know which you'd prefer, so I brought both," Kai said, his voice soft but steady. He hesitated for a second before adding, "Good thing I did."
"Did you already have them with you?" I asked, still chewing on the granola bar, the sweetness slowly bringing me back to myself.
Kai shook his head, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "No, I ran to my room to grab them. I couldn't decide which one you'd like more. Besides," he paused, his eyes glinting with something close to amusement, "I've got my own stash of snacks too, you know. You're not the only one."
His attempt at teasing was unexpected. I felt a laugh bubble up in my chest, and though it didn't escape, a small smile found its way to my face. I hadn't smiled in what felt like ages. The tension between us from the cafeteria incident seemed to fade, if only for this brief moment.
We sat in silence again for a while. It wasn't uncomfortable, but there was something in the air—an unspoken understanding that neither of us acknowledged but both felt.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. "Why did you help me?" I asked quietly.
Kai leaned back on the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I noticed something was off. I don't know… I just thought maybe you could use a break. And I guess I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Why?" I repeated, genuinely confused. "We barely know each other."
He shrugged, but the playfulness in his earlier tone was gone, replaced by something more serious. "Maybe it's because we're all just trying to survive this place. It messes with your head, you know? We all have our own ways of coping, but sometimes... you need someone else to remind you you're not completely alone." His voice trailed off, his gaze far away, as if he was speaking from experience.
I didn't say anything, just nodded. He was right. This place did mess with your head, and I'd been so focused on keeping my walls up, so determined to stay strong, that I hadn't realized just how close I am to falling apart at any moment.
After a few minutes, Kai stood, brushing the dirt from his hands. "Listen, if you ever need another snack... or, I don't know, someone to sit with, just let me know. I won't even make fun of your junk food addicton." He shot me a small smile before heading back to the weights.
I watched him go, my mind turning over his words. It wasn't much, but the fact that he'd noticed—had cared enough to help—left me feeling unsettled in a way I hadn't expected. Vulnerability wasn't something I was used to showing, and yet, here was someone who had seen it, and instead of exploiting it, he'd offered me something as simple as a granola bar.
I couldn't help but hate him for it.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the yard, I stood up, stretching out my stiff muscles. The quiet moment with Kai replayed in my mind as I made my way back to the dorms. I didn't understand why his small act of kindness affected me so much, but it did.
I was halfway to my room when I saw something strange in the hallway—Aiden and Jonah, standing by one of the doors, whispering urgently. Their faces were tense, and they kept glancing around as if afraid of being caught. My instincts told me to keep walking, to mind my own business, but something about their conversation made me slow down.
They were talking about... the facility. About the experiments.
I strained to hear more, but just as I moved closer, Aiden caught sight of me. His eyes widened, and he quickly motioned for Jonah to shut up. The two of them turned, retreating into one of the rooms before I could ask any questions.
My heart raced. I stood there for a moment, unsure of what I had just overheard, but one thing was clear: something was happening beneath the surface of this training. Something they didn't want anyone else to know.
As I made my way to my room, the conversation I had just overheard between Aiden and Jonah weighed heavily on my mind. What were they talking about? Something about experiments? The facility? My pulse quickened at the thought. I had sensed something off about this place for a while now, but hearing them confirm my suspicions felt like the ground was shifting beneath my feet.
I reached my dorm, but the unease from earlier still clung to me, refusing to let go. When I opened the door, the familiar sight of my sparse room did little to comfort me. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, trying to steady my breath.
Tomorrow was going to be different. I knew it the second I stepped back into the dorm hall. There was tension hanging in the air, unspoken but unmistakable. Whispers echoed through the building, rumors about tomorrow, the unknown challenge that awaited us.
No one knew exactly what it would be, but that only made the anxiety worse. The unpredictability was like a weight pressing down on everyone. Even now, in the supposed safety of my room, I could feel it—a lingering sense of dread creeping in, refusing to be shaken.
I flopped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to push the thoughts away. The next challenge was coming. It was strange I found myself almost starting to care about it. I can't say I was too happy about that.