Isolating herself from her friends had been a bad idea. When Sara remembered she had to go back to her room to take the vitamins she took every evening, she insisted on going alone. She got it done quickly—but she hadn't expected to hear the screams that stopped her in her tracks on the way back.
Fear twisted in her stomach. Someone was in trouble. She followed the sound down the main corridor, hoping it was just a quarreling couple. But her heart stopped when she saw the General dragging a beaten Julia by the hair.
He pulled her out of the doctor's office violently, and when Julia screamed louder, he slapped her hard across the face. Julia cried out, and a doctor stepped out into the corridor.
Sara had trusted this doctor until now. She'd believed he was just doing his job, unaware of what was really happening in the center. But the truth hit her like a punch to the gut.
"You have to hand Julia over to me by morning," the doctor said, adjusting his glasses. "I asked her friend to return tomorrow. You have no idea how hard it was to get rid of that kid. He won't leave her alone. I think he's starting to suspect something."
"I'll do what I want," the General said with a twisted grin. "If he causes problems, I'll silence him too."
"Your brother won't let you do that. You can't kill those kids. He gave you conditions you agreed to."
"Do you really think I care about his rules? I'll do things my way. I pulled it off once, living under a false name for years. Now I'm old—I don't fear death anymore. If I feel like it, I'll murder them all."
Sara went weak at the knees.
Oliver had been right. The man was insane. He could do whatever he wanted, because he no longer feared the consequences.
"I'm warning you," the doctor said. "These are just kids. I know how much you hate their kind, but this isn't wartime anymore. People will notice if their children go missing."
"Spare me the lectures. My brother already called their parents and explained why their phones were taken away. They won't question a thing. Most of them don't care anyway. But some of these kids… they're special. I have plans for them."
"I won't let you."
Sara leaned closer, trying to see Julia's condition.
Suddenly, Julia looked directly at her. Her eyes silently begged for help.
Sara froze. She wanted to act—but she was terrified.
She couldn't face the General alone.
But what if she were in Julia's place? Would Julia have helped her? Maybe not. Still, Sara was different—always sympathetic, always worrying about others. Too good for her own safety.
She bit her lip, steeling herself, ready to call out and intervene—when a hand suddenly clamped over her mouth. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her into a nearby corridor. She was slammed gently but firmly against the wall, held in place.
Wide-eyed, she looked up.
It was Oliver. And he was furious.
"Are you insane?" he hissed. "Were you really going to rush in there and get yourself killed for her? That venomous snake? Stay out of it. I won't let you get hurt." His eyes blazed. "She doesn't deserve your help. Don't you remember what she did to you?"
"I don't care what she did to me," Sara replied, her voice shaking with emotion. "She needs help. Julia is still a person—just like the rest of us. We have to stick together if we want to get out of here. I hate her too, but I refuse to be as selfish as you. Let me go, Oliver."
Her words may have been harsh, but she meant every one of them.
For once, she wasn't thinking about her own safety. For once, she had courage.
Oliver stared at her for a long moment, then stepped back.
Sara didn't hesitate. She ran back to where she'd last seen Julia—only to find the corridor empty. Julia and the General were gone.
She had done nothing. Julia had begged for help, and she hadn't done a thing.
What if the General hurt her worse? What if he killed her?
He was unpredictable. Dangerous.
She had to find Matthew and the others—now.
"He took her," Oliver said, appearing behind her.
Sara spun around, her fury returning in full force.
"If you hadn't stopped me, I could have helped her. I would've done something. Now she's gone!"
"You've changed," Oliver said, surprised. "You're bolder… and meaner, too. Maybe you've been hanging out with the wrong people."
His tone turned bitter. Sara wondered—was he talking about Alan?
"I think I know where the General took her," Oliver added, voice low. "But I'm not telling you. You don't get to play the hero. I hate this."
"You don't need to tell me," she replied firmly. "As long as someone helps her. Matthew and Alan will go. I know they will."
Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.
"Alan will help her for sure," Oliver muttered, clenching his fists. He noticed her watching and exhaled sharply. "Fine. I'll tell them. Let's go."
They found the others quickly. Questions flew at Sara—why had she taken so long just to get vitamins?
Oliver pulled the guys aside and explained everything she had seen. He was just finishing when Matthew leapt from his seat, ready to charge out.
Alan grabbed his arm to stop him.
"I think your friend has more to say," Alan said coolly, casting a sharp look at Oliver.
"I followed the General once. Late at night. I saw where he went. I think that's where Julia is now. I'll take you there."
Alan narrowed his eyes. "You've been following him? You developing insomnia, or just playing detective?" he mocked, smirking. His tone was icy.
The two boys locked eyes—uneasy allies, at best.
Sara noticed the tension and felt uneasy herself. Alan's expression was cold, calculating. But when he noticed her watching, his face softened. He clapped Matthew on the shoulder, and the three of them rushed off.
"I wouldn't mind if that viper disappeared forever," Laura muttered, watching them go. "But they'd better find her. No one deserves death—not even her."
She glanced over at Simon, who was chatting up a group of girls nearby. Sara noticed it too—he was clearly trying to make Laura jealous, and it was working. Laura couldn't stop staring at him. Her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowed.
"If that little tramp giggles one more time," Laura growled, "I'm going to slap her so hard she'll forget how to smile."
Sara barely listened. Her nerves were frayed.
She could only pray that the boys would find Julia in time—and that no one else would get hurt.
Biting her finger, she stared at the corridor where she had last seen them disappear, silently willing them to return soon.
*
An hour passes, and the clock strikes nine. Everyone is required to return to their rooms. The teachers begin patrolling the halls, so the teenager hides behind a bench. She can't go back yet—not until the others return. She needs to know they're okay.
One of the teachers turns off the hallway lights and leaves. Sara steps out from behind the bench and presses her back against the wall.
Laura had returned to the room a while ago, so furious about Simon's behavior that she couldn't think of anything else. Sara had called out to her not to let the other girls' teasing get under her skin, but Laura left anyway, ranting all the way. She said the boys would handle things and bring Julia back. But Sara isn't so sure. Worry gnaws at her too much to simply wait in her room.
She peers around the corner, hopeful. Suddenly, panicked voices echo down the corridor. Moments later, two boys appear, supporting an unconscious Julia between them. Sara runs up to them and sees their faces clearly under the faint glow spilling through the windows.
Matthew looks grim, holding Julia tightly. Oliver walks beside him, visibly troubled.
Where is Alan?
"Tell her everything. I'll take care of Julia," Matthew says, cradling the girl in his arms before disappearing down the corridor. Oliver stays behind, rubbing his forehead nervously.
"What happened? Why isn't Alan with you?" she asks, scrutinizing him. The dim window light casts long shadows on his face, but she can still make out his features.
"He was the one who got Julia out of there. I lied earlier—I told them I saw the General enter his password. Alan decided he'd go in alone, since the General wouldn't dare hurt him. It took him a long time, so we decided to go in after him, and then he came out—with Julia."
Oliver exhales shakily.
"The General came out of the office. Alan went back inside. I saw them arguing. Alan yelled at us to run before we were seen. And then—I saw him punch the General."
Sara's eyes widen.
"And you just left him there? Because he's untouchable? He risked everything to help Julia! He hit the General! That man is a monster—he doesn't even understand the meaning of family!" she yells, her voice trembling with both rage and fear. How could they have left him behind like that?
"I know it was wrong. We thought he'd be safe. I understand you're upset, but Alan will be fine, Sara," Oliver says gently.
She bites her lip, eyes brimming with frustration. She throws Oliver a sharp look, but softens when she sees the guilt in his eyes. She can't stay angry at him—not at her friends. Not at the people she cares about.
"I'm just scared," she whispers, closing her eyes.
Because I love him, she finishes silently.
Oliver takes a hesitant step forward, reaching to embrace her—but stops as a shadowy figure approaches in the distance. Sara immediately recognizes the tall silhouette.
Without a word, she slips away from Oliver and runs straight to Alan, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Caught off guard, he stands frozen for a moment before gently hugging her back.
"I'm okay," he murmurs, smiling. "But it's nice to know how much you care."
Behind them, Oliver closes his eyes. A strange ache pulses in his chest. He blinks back the tears welling beneath his lids, completely unsure of what's happening to him.
"Come on, Oliver," he whispers bitterly to himself. "What are you doing? You're trash. No one will ever love you."
And with that, he turns away and disappears down the hallway.
*
They sat together by the door of the room, careful not to wake Laura, who was already asleep. Sara no longer cared about the curfew. Since Alan had become important to her, the rules seemed meaningless. Even danger itself felt distant. Only now did she understand what people meant when they said that love changes you. It gave you courage—made you willing to do anything for someone else.
"Will you tell me what happened back there?" she asked softly, stealing a glance at him from under her lashes.
Alan fidgeted with his fingers, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I think I did the right thing by not letting the guys go in. They would've only made things worse—and after all, I'm untouchable," he said with a shrug. "I had a good feeling about the first room I checked, and Julia was there, lying on the medical table. So I got her out. I handed her off to Matthew, then stopped the General when he came out of another room. And then… I snapped. I hit him so hard he fell over."
Amusement flickered in his voice. He even laughed a little. Sara, however, didn't find it funny. She was worried sick about him, and here he was—making jokes. He'd been acting differently these past few days—more reckless, less grounded. But she chose to look past it, assuming this was how he was coping with the dark truth he'd recently uncovered.
"He was lucky the psychologist showed up to help him off the floor," Alan continued. "Pretty sure I pissed off my grandpa. He hit me back, too. For an old man, he packs a punch—but I've got a tough body. No bruises. I guess that runs in the family."
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, searching his face with concern. Her voice trembled slightly. Alan looked into her eyes, and her cheeks flushed. That effect he had on her—it never faded. Sometimes she still got shy around him.
"Do I look like I need a doctor?" he teased with a crooked smile. She shook her head quickly. He reached for her hand and gently ran his fingers over hers.
"They still bothering you?"
"What?" She blinked, confused.
"The ghosts," he clarified. She shook her head again.
"I've had peace for a few days now… but it feels like the calm before the storm."
"And the mark on your arm? Still hurt?"
"No," she admitted, glancing at the spot. "Ever since that night, the pain's completely gone."
She remembered the spirit's words—that ominous warning about Alan. The grandson is the same as the grandfather. You'll awaken the monster in him, and he'll hurt you. It haunted her still.
But she refused to believe it. The ghosts wanted to turn her against him. They wanted revenge—for her to kill Alan simply because of who his grandfather was. But she wouldn't let them use her like that.
"Remember when I told you I was having strange dreams?" he asked suddenly. "Nightmares that felt more like memories—like glimpses into the past? They stopped after the General showed up at the center. Don't you think that's strange?"
Sara didn't get a chance to respond.
A noise echoed from the staircase.
"I want you to find that little whore!" a man's voice thundered. "Not only is she corrupting my grandson, she's related to a psychic!"
Sara's blood ran cold. She looked at Alan with wide, terrified eyes. The General was talking about her.
Without hesitation, Alan grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the back of the hallway. He knew they'd search the rooms first.
"You're the granddaughter of a psychic?" he whispered, startled.
Sara nodded faintly.
"I think so," she murmured. "It's the only thing that explains the gift that awakened in me after the accident. But how did he find out? The psychologist was the only one who knew…"
They both looked toward the voices now echoing closer.
Alan quickly pressed Sara against the wall, shielding her with his body. Her heart pounded in her chest as heavy footsteps approached. Though it was dark, there was just enough light for shadows to give them away.
Sara clenched her eyes shut.
Even though Alan wouldn't let anyone touch her, she couldn't stop the panic from tightening around her like a vice.