Sara believed the building no longer hid any secrets, so she did not suppose that among them there were people in whom dark secrets still lurked.
The teenager carefully watched the man resting his hand on his chin, intensely contemplating something. He gave the impression of being pensive, as if wondering whether the decision he had made would turn out to be the right one.
The young man glanced surreptitiously at Oliver, looking both fascinated and happy to see him. In the stranger's eyes, there was true joy—something Sara could not understand.
And Oliver?
He was lost. With an absent-minded gaze, he stared at the floor without even lifting his face for a moment.
The psychologist breathed down his neck, so Sara delved into him with a distrustful look, wanting to get his attention. This man had been conspiring with the General from the beginning, hurting the youth, so what did he have to say to her? There was no way he could convince her.
"Oliver trusts me," he began firmly, looking completely relaxed. "He may not show it, but I am convinced we have been working on the same side. He's served me from the very beginning. He's a good kid," he announced, looking at the boy with a caring eye. "I asked him for discretion, and he kept it, even in front of you. I'm sure of this kid."
Sara measured her friend with her eyes, but he did not raise his head even for a moment, as if afraid to look her in the eye.
"Oliver told me he stopped serving the Nazis because he was no longer needed by the director. He said he was not in danger, but I couldn't believe it. Was he really safe?"
"Oliver will always be safe, because the director treats him like his son. He's like my brother," the psychologist said, and a look of clear surprise appeared on the boy's face. Finally, he lifted his eyes from the floor and looked at the man carefully, as if to see if he was joking.
Sara noticed that Oliver had no idea what was going on around him, even though many things concerned him. He was as lost as she was.
"Why is Oliver singled out when he was picked up off the street like the other orphans you killed?"
"I did not kill them. It was my father's decision. At first, he wanted me to brainwash them, but I didn't agree, so he used a math teacher to kill them," he declared, a sour smile appearing on his face. "You ask why Oliver is singled out? Because he is not an ordinary orphan."
"What do you mean?" the boy interjected, throwing the man a curious look. "Why should I be singled out? I was the same as them."
"Only you think so. We know a different truth about your past."
Oliver paled. He pressed his lips together and glanced fearfully at the impaired man, who slapped his hands against the glass bars.
"So you're saying Oliver's past is a lie? The past he knows is just plain bullshit?" Sara asked, clearly shocked by the confession.
"Yes," replied the psychologist, looking at the teenager's face with a dark expression. "Oliver?" The boy met his gaze, so the man got up from his chair and crouched beside him to look him in the eye from close. "Do you know why you don't remember the story from your childhood? Because you were made to believe it."
Shock appeared on Oliver's face. His eyes welled with tears, and he twitched with fear. Oliver, who often showed courage and arrogance to people he disliked, now shed a tear.
"I would like to tell you everything, but it could end too cruelly for you. I've let you in on the secret, and with that, your mind will begin to open to the past. Slowly, childhood memories will begin to return—from the time before you were taken here."
Oliver's eyes widened as if the information particularly frightened him. He seemed to not want to know the past, as if he preferred to stay trapped in a lie. Was he afraid of discovering the truth? What was behind it?
The psychologist patted him on the shoulder, and the boy standing aside looked at Oliver's silhouette with a caring gaze.
"Do you know when I hated my father?" the man surprised them again. Sara rubbed her frozen hands, trying to warm them. For a brief moment, she froze, shivers running down her body. But she didn't know if they were caused by the cool air or by the information she was receiving.
"Do you hate your father?" she asked uncertainly.
"I hated him shortly after the General appeared in the building. Let's just say there's some dirt in our past, and my uncle made it worse. I couldn't accept that my father didn't stand up to him and listened to the General's every word. Not after what he did to him. What he did to our family."
Sara was intrigued by the psychologist's words. What had the General done to her younger brother that made the psychologist hate him?
"I can't hurt my father, that's why I pretend to serve them all the time. But I hope that with my help, you will be able to escape from here. I care most about keeping you two safe," he declared. Sara's eyes widened. "Oliver, whom I have known since childhood, and you, Sara, because you are the daughter of the woman I loved."
The girl blinked, telling herself she must have overheard, but when he repeated it, the phrase sank in.
"What are you talking about? What do you mean the person you loved?"
"Twenty years ago, your mother and I shared a wonderful feeling. We met in college. We loved each other and were together for a long time. Unfortunately, I did not tell her the truth about my background. She broke up with me not because Nazi blood flows in me, but because I lied to her. That hurt her the most."
"My mother loved you? You?" Sara was so shocked she almost screamed.
"She always said I was a good person, and it was lucky she met me."
"So good that you hurt Julia, and also injected me with some kind of drug? That's how you protected me?"
"I didn't do anything to Julia. She cooperated with me. I asked her to pretend so she wouldn't get us into trouble," he explained hastily, so Sara crossed her arms, ready for another attack, but the psychologist didn't let her speak. "That day, when the teacher sent you to me, I already knew you were her daughter. Do you think I would be able to hurt you?"
"So what did you inject me with? Why did I lose consciousness?"
"A sleeping agent."
"Why? Why did I wake up with my hand full of needles? Why did all my muscles hurt?" She raised her voice, locking eyes with him.
"Because I put you to sleep several times so you wouldn't wake up quickly. That caused your body to suffer, and you were sore from the strain. I wanted to look at you because you reminded me so much of your mother—whom I missed... I missed her," he said uncertainly, almost ashamed.
"Do you know how that sounds?" Her voice trembled.
"I know, and I'm sorry. When I realized my stupidity, I asked Oliver to take you away." Sara shifted her gaze to her friend, beginning to put the pieces together. It made sense.
The boy still avoided her gaze. He acted strangely. He was confused.
"When my mother learned the truth and broke up with you, was that the last time you saw her?"
The man shook his head and sighed deeply, sitting back in his chair.
"I used to see her all the time because we went to college together. Many times I tried to talk to her, but she avoided me." His voice saddened. "Two months later, I saw her get into a car with a man twenty years older. She did it deliberately—she wanted me to see."
"Did she do it to get a rise out of you?"
"She did. And it worked, because I got mad. She did everything to upset me. She didn't even try to forget me, but one mistake ruined everything."
"What mistake?" Sara's curiosity about the story involving her mother grew.
"I don't know if she wanted to make amends this way, but she spent the night with a man she didn't know at all," he said. Sara raised an eyebrow, absorbing the increasingly interesting family details. "She cried because she regretted the mistake. She sobbed in my arms because she got pregnant by a man she didn't love."
"Did he—" Sara couldn't finish her sentence; her throat had dried from nerves. She swallowed saliva, but the psychologist interrupted.
"The man told her to get rid of the child. He offered her money, but she refused. She came running to me..." he said, lifting the corners of his mouth. "I promised her I'd stay by her side and help with the baby."
"So what happened? Did the child—"
Again, Sara couldn't finish as the man cut her off.
"Everything got complicated. That day, we had an appointment—I promised to go to the doctor with her. Little did I know my father would pay an unexpected visit. I couldn't meet her, even though I wanted to so badly. When I didn't show up, she thought I'd changed my mind and gave up on her. I never saw her again. She dropped out of college, and a few years later, I saw her on TV by your father's side. She got together with him and gave birth to you." Sara leaned her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her trembling hands. "All along, I thought he took you and your mother in out of sympathy. That his conscience gnawed at him."
Sara rose sharply from her chair, rubbing her forehead, her tear-streaked eyes fixed on the handicapped man, who continued to stare at them. In his eyes, she saw no aggression, only fear—panic—that seemed like a warning. He looked as if he wanted to tell her something.
"I think I'm beginning to understand why my father has treated me this way all my life... why he sent me to this hell with such ease, unconcerned," she whispered, still watching the handicapped man, who despite being unintelligible in speech, begged for someone to free him. "He never loved me. Not truly."
Oliver lifted his head and looked at her with sad eyes. Both had learned something they should never have known, though the boy would discover more details about his past with time.
"I'm sorry, Sara, for telling you everything so directly, but I want you to trust me. I want to get you out of here, even if it means risking my life."
She didn't respond. She simply turned her back on him.
In her head, Sara heard a strange voice calling her. With panicked eyes, she looked around the room, wondering what it was.
In the corner, she noticed a ghost.
It was her grandmother. She looked directly at Sara, but her eyes were blank—like two black orbs. Sara often saw this, but never in the way she saw it now. This wasn't her grandmother.
"Kill the boy. Why is he still alive? Kill him! Him and the General!" The scream was shrill, and Sara shuddered violently.
At first, there had been moments when her grandmother repeated that she had to do it. Those words were forced out by other spirits. After all, she herself had asked Sara not to let silly thoughts take root when discussing the General. And now, suddenly, she was ordering her to kill Alan?
"Don't listen to what she says."
The girl averted her gaze and saw her grandmother again—but this time, her eyes looked normal.
"What's going on?" she whispered in panic, glancing nervously both ways. Oliver noticed that his friend was seeing something.
"It's an evil spirit that has appeared to you many times, taking my form. Don't listen to her. Not this time. She's trying to mess with your mind."
Sara recalled their first encounter: the night Julia had thrown her into the pond. That was when she first saw her grandmother in the room—an apparition that had terrified her.
And now she realized her grandmother's eyes had been black, her demeanor filled with pure malice.
She began recalling all the times she had encountered that hostile spirit, shuddering as she understood she had repeatedly faced an unfriendly entity urging her to commit dark deeds.
Only now did she realize it hadn't been her grandmother commanding her to kill Alan, but something that took her form...
"Why didn't you warn me earlier?" she cried, her voice rising as her breath grew shallow. She felt the icy gaze of the demonic entity, enraged by the true grandmother's presence.
"I couldn't—until I explained everything to you. It's stronger than me. It can destroy me, banish me from here. And it intends to do just that. So listen carefully!" Sara locked eyes with her, terrified. "It appears not only as me when it shows up to you. Think back on all the terrible moments you endured here—it was all its doing. This spirit controls you. It's the one sending you to the underworld while you sleep."
"Why? What does it want from me?" Sara asked, tears welling as she watched her grandmother begin to dissolve into thin air. "What's happening to you?"
"Sara, it wants to use you. You cannot give in to its words, do you understand? You mustn't become a murderer!"
That was the last warning Sara heard from her before the soul vanished forever.
"Where are you?" came Oliver's worried voice behind her. He stepped uncertainly closer, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "Why are you acting like this? You're starting to scare me."
She turned toward him, looking utterly scattered. Her wide eyes seemed distant, as if she had slipped away from the living.
"I'm beginning to understand where this sudden courage inside me is coming from," she murmured so softly Oliver barely caught it.
"What is it, Sara?" he asked, shaking her gently, but she seemed trapped in some kind of trance.
"This thing is going to kill me. I have to get out of here," she whispered. Although she had been looking at Oliver for a long moment, she only now truly noticed him. "And you know what? You better hold me tight, because something is very wrong—I feel like I'm about to..."
She didn't finish. Her strength gave out, and she fainted into his arms.
Oliver cast a worried glance toward the psychologist and carefully caught her.
"Erik, go with them and keep an eye on them. Don't go underground unless I tell you," the psychologist instructed.
Erik nodded in agreement and glanced at Oliver, concern written all over his face for his friend's condition.
"We'll exit through the psychologist's office. It'll be safer that way."
*
They silently headed down the empty corridor, vigilantly glancing around to avoid running into the wrong people. Oliver felt the weight of the boy's gaze on him—the boy who accompanied him. He didn't know who he was or why he acted as if he knew him perfectly well.
"Can you stop looking at me? It's weird, and I'm starting to get the impression there's something wrong with you," Oliver snapped.
He threw him a warning glance, but a wide smile spread across Erik's face, clearly amused by the situation.
"You're handsome," he said shamelessly. Oliver's eyes widened, and he stopped in his tracks, giving Sara a slight shove as his hands ached. He fixed his confused gaze on the brunette stranger, wondering if the boy was accidentally hitting on him. Those looks and smiles were exactly how boys behaved when trying to seduce a girl.
"Besides your face, you've got a good body and you're tall. And you're well put together," Erik added with amusement in his voice. His expression showed he was the joking type.
Oliver said nothing, simply standing still and measuring him with his eyes.
"Chicks probably throw themselves at you like steaks," Erik concluded, his smile unwavering. He raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Sara. "She sees you as a piece of prime meat."
"I've been so well-mannered that I'm only interested in women," Oliver told him, sending a sour smile back.
Erik laughed quietly and bounded up the stairs leading to the girls' room.
He spread his arms ridiculously and wiggled his toes as if impatient that Oliver hadn't hugged him yet.
"Calm down. When you were with the psychologist, you looked like a paid killer, and now you act like you've been sent to a resort. This isn't the time for silly stuff. We're all in danger and no one's laughing."
"Honestly? Compared to the hell I came from, this place is a vacation spot for me," Oliver replied.
"I don't know where the psychologist found you, but you're definitely not normal," Oliver said, dodging Erik on the stairs. "And try to be quieter in the corridor. There are psychopaths hiding everywhere here."
Erik suddenly leapt at him and wrapped his arm around Oliver so tightly that he nearly lost his balance. He narrowly caught himself and almost fell, dragging Sara along in his arms.
"Are you crazy? Do you want to hurt us? Let go, you excitable nut," Oliver warned, regaining his balance just as Erik's attention was caught by Laura, standing at the top of the stairs.
She wore a sleep shirt that revealed her long legs—legs Erik had clearly grown fond of.
Seeing the lecherous look on the stranger's face, Laura raised an eyebrow and tugged her shirt down, trying to avoid flashing her underwear. She didn't know who he was, but his expression screamed "womanizer," and she had just fallen prey to him.
"Who's the guy with the painted-on perversion?" she asked bluntly, pointing at Erik.
"You'd better worry about your friend—she was sleepwalking again and now she's unconscious," Oliver said, heading toward the room. "And don't pay attention to this clown. He's been assigned to take care of us."
Oliver entered the room while Laura made a quick turn on the step, ignoring the boy below and moving to join her friends. But an unlucky slip caused her to lose her balance and fall right into Erik's arms.
Blinking, she looked up at his face, which was lit by a happy, even seductive, smile. He bared his teeth in a charming grin.
"Cheap tricks always work on me. You're already mine," he declared, gnashing his teeth theatrically.
Laura wrenched free and punched him hard in the stomach.
"Sharp… that's the kind I like best," Erik said, tilting his head to the side.
"What a catch they brought in. As if this place didn't already have enough of them…" the girl muttered under her breath, running up the stairs to the room.
Erik rubbed his nose and followed her, which at first unsettled Laura. She slammed the door in his face, refusing to let him in.