~~
The projection flickered, freezing on the image of Maya—
Four years old, kneeling on the cold concrete floor, her face a mask of blood and bruises, her small body trembling with exhaustion and pain.
Her uniform was torn, her bare feet scraped and dirty, and her eyes— stared at the floor with an emptiness that was far more devastating than tears.
The room fell silent.
Mahi was the first to break.
Her hands flew to her mouth, pressing against her lips as though she could physically hold back the sob that was building in her chest.
But it escaped anyway— a broken, anguished sound that seemed to tear its way out of her throat, "No… no, no, no…"
She took a step toward the projection, her legs unsteady, her eyes fixed on the image of her daughter.
Her fingers reached out, trembling, as though she could somehow reach through the screen and pull that little girl into her arms.
"She's just a baby, she's just a baby…
Look at her… look at her face… She's covered in blood. "
She pressed her hand against her chest, as though trying to hold her heart together.
" She's all alone. And I wasn't there. I wasn't there.
I should have been there. I should have found her. I should have saved her but I didn't."
Mahim stood motionless.
His posture was rigid— the posture of a man who had learned to control his emotions through sheer force of will.
But his hands were shaking. His jaw was tight, the muscles in his neck straining as though he was physically holding back something that wanted to tear its way out.
"Four years old.
I've seen grown men break under less. I've seen soldiers collapse after less."
His voice grew quieter, more hollow.
"They broke her hands. They starved her.
They made her run until her body gave out. And now… this."
Farhan couldn't look at the screen anymore.
He had turned away, his hand pressed against his mouth, his shoulders shaking.
He was trying to hold it together, trying to be strong, but the image of Maya— bloodied, bruised, kneeling on the cold concrete— was burned into his mind.
"I can't…" he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can't watch this."
His body trembled, and then, without warning, the tears came. He simply let them fall, his chest heaving with silent sobs.
"She's just a little girl, She's just a little girl. And she's been fighting her whole life. She's never had a moment of peace. Never had a moment of safety."
Faha was sitting on the floor.
He had slid down the wall at some point, his knees drawn to his chest, his head bowed. When he finally spoke, his voice was small, broken.
"She looked so small on that floor. So broken."
A pause. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming.
"She didn't cry. I kept waiting for her to cry. I wanted her to cry, just so I could hear that she still had something left. But she didn't. She just sat there. Like she'd been expecting it."
His voice cracked.
"How many times has she been told she failed?
Because I'm counting. I'm counting every single time. And I don't think I'll ever stop.
She told the Instructor she was weaker than the others but she said—'I am still alive.' That means I am not weak enough to be dead.'"
He let out a broken laugh that was more sob than humor.
"A four-year-old said that. If I had been there… if I had been in that room… I don't know what I would have done."
Rahi sat in his chair, his body still partially paralyzed from the sedative.
"I told you, I told you there were doors you shouldn't open."
No one answered.
"She's been fighting her whole life. She's never had a moment of peace.
And when she finally gets a chance to rest, she can't even do that.
You all wanted to know the truth. You wanted to understand what happened to her. Now you see it but here's the thing you still don't understand.
This is only the beginning. The worst is still to come. And when it does… when you see what else happened to her… you'll wish you could unsee it."
~~
The Code Instructor's voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade. She had returned to her bench, her posture relaxed, her amber eyes fixed on the kneeling figure before her.
"Subject 17 A, You have failed. You were given a simple task—a concession that should have been easy for any child with even a modicum of skill."
Maya remained on her knees, her chest heaving, her body trembling. Blood dripped from her nose, staining the concrete beneath her.
The Code Instructor paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the room.
She turned her gaze back to Maya, her expression cold and unyielding.
"Subject 17 A will be transferred to the Correction Room."
A ripple of motion passed through the circle. It was almost imperceptible— the slightest shift in posture, the quickening of breath but it was there.
The boy with the scar— Subject 0004—stiffened.
His arms, which had been crossed loosely over his chest, tightened. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his jaw working as he processed the Instructor's words.
His eyes, usually so cold and unreadable, flickered with something that might have been... fear or perhaps it was simply recognition.
The girl with the cropped black hair—Subject 0002— inhaled sharply. It was a small sound, barely audible, but it cut through the silence like a cry.
Her sharp eyes, which had been watching Maya with cold calculation, now held something else.
Something that might have been pity.
The thin boy with round glasses— Subject 0011—trembled. His hands, which had been resting at his sides, began to shake.
His face, already pale, drained of what little color remained. He looked at Maya with wide, frightened eyes—
The eyes of someone who knew exactly what the Correction Room meant.
Other children reacted as well. Some looked away, unable to meet Maya's gaze. Others stared, their expressions a mixture of horror and fascination.
A few— the ones who had been in the facility longer— lowered their heads, their shoulders sagging with resignation.
The boy with the shaved head— the one who had lost to Subject 0002 let out a low whistle. It was a sound of mockery, of cruel amusement.
"Well, well," he muttered under his breath. "Looks like the little one's in trouble now."
A girl near the edge of the circle pressed her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. She looked like she was about to be sick.
Another child— a boy with tired eyes and hollow cheeks— shook his head slowly.
Maya did not know what the Correction Room was. She had not been in the facility long enough to learn but she could see the fear
in the other children's eyes.
"Take her."
A tall attendant stepped forward. He wore the same crisp white uniform as the others, his fingers closed around Maya's arm like iron.
His grip was unyielding as though she were nothing more than a sack of grain to be dragged from one place to another.
He pulled. Maya's body lurched forward, her bare feet scraping against the cold concrete.
The sudden motion sent a jolt of pain through her battered frame— the cuts on her face burned with renewed intensity.
But she did not cry out.
She stumbled, her legs struggling to keep up with the attendant's long, relentless strides. Her knees buckled slightly but she caught herself, forcing her trembling body to move.
"I can walk," she said.
The attendant did not acknowledge her.
Maya's feet continued to scrape against the concrete, her body twisting awkwardly as she tried to keep pace.
She looked up at the attendant's face—expressionless,
"I'm not going to run, I'm not going to fight. You don't have to drag me."
The attendant gave no response. His eyes remained fixed ahead.
Maya stopped resisting. She let herself be pulled, her small body swaying with each of the attendant's long strides.
Her feet dragged across the floor, leaving faint smears of blood from the cuts on her soles but before she turned away from the training hall— she looked back.
The children were still standing in their circle,
And in their eyes— she saw something she had not expected.
[ PITY ]
The boy with shaved head, the one who had mocked her earlier. His cruel smile had vanished, he stared at Maya with hollow eyes.
Maya held their gaze for a moment longer, meeting their eyes one by one—
Her gaze lingered on them for only a moment longer, then she turned away. The doors closed behind them, [Click]
The attendant's grip remained firm as he dragged her through the corridor.
Her small feet left faint, bloodied prints on
the cold concrete floor, each step a silent testament to what had been done to her.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, The air was still, carrying the faint scent of antiseptic and metal.
A maze of anonymity designed to disorient, to strip away any sense of place or direction.
Maya's body ached but her mind was not
on the pain.
She replayed the moment in her head— The way the other children's eyes had widened, they knew something she didn't.
She had seen the words before. Just last night, when she had scrolled through her Code Routine on the collar's holographic display.
The panel had listed her daily schedule but there had been something else— a section she had only glanced at briefly.
A heading that had caught her eye before she had scrolled past it. CORRECTION ROOM PROTOCOL.
She hadn't had the time. She had been too tired, overwhelmed by the weight of the day.
But the words had lodged themselves in her mind, buried beneath layers of exhaustion and pain and now, they surfaced again.
What was it? A place of punishment?
A place of torture?
A place where children were broken beyond repair?
The other children's reactions told her it was something terrible. Something that even the most hardened subjects feared.
But Maya was not afraid, she had learned in her short life that fear was a luxury she could not afford.
But curiosity—curiosity was different, she needed to understand what awaited her.
And as the attendant continued to drag her forward, his eyes fixed ahead, his attention focused on the path before them—
Maya saw her chance.The holographic panel on her collar. Slowly, she shifted her gaze downward.
Her fingers brushed against the collar around her neck. She could feel the faint warmth of the metal against her skin, her fingers found the small indentation.
She pressed it.
A faint, translucent holographic display flickered to life in front of her,
She scrolled quickly, her eyes scanning the categories.
[CORRECTION ROOM PROTOCOL]
She pressed it.The display shifted, revealing a new screen. Text appeared,
---
CLASSIFICATION: BEHAVIORAL RE-CONDITIONING ROOM
PURPOSE:
TO ELIMINATE NON-COMPLIANT BEHAVIOR AND REINFORCE ABSOLUTE OBEDIENCE.
DURATION: VARIABLE — DEPENDENT ON SUBJECT RESPONSE
ESCALATION PROTOCOL: SUBJECTS WHO FAIL TO DEMONSTRATE COMPLIANCE WILL BE MOVED TO HIGHER CORRECTION LEVELS
CORRECTION LEVELS :
[LEVEL 1 — ISOLATION]
[LEVEL 2 — PHYSICAL REINFORCEMENT]
[LEVEL 3 — PSYCHOLOGICAL BREAKING]
[LEVEL 4 — COMPLETE RE-CONDITIONING]
---
Maya's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes moved across the text, absorbing each word with a hunger that surprised even her.
The cage had been cold but it had been familiar. The woman's house had been terrifying but Maya had understood the source of her fear.
The Correction Room was designed to strip away everything— her will, her defiance, her very sense of self.
Her eyes returned to the screen, scanning the final lines of text.
[SUBJECTS WHO SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETE THE CORRECTION PROTOCOL
WILL BE RETURNED TO THE GENERAL POPULATION.
SUBJECTS WHO ARE DEEMED UNSUCCESSFUL WILL BE KILLED ]
She read the final sentence again and again.
She waited for fear. She waited for her heart to race, for her hands to tremble, for her body to react with the primal instinct of self-preservation.
It never came.
Instead, something else settled inside her— a strange, quiet understanding.
In this place, failure was not a mistake.
Failure was a death sentence.
The corridor ended at a heavy steel door.
It was different from the others Maya had seen, Darker. Its surface was scarred with scratches and dents—
A small rectangular window sat at eye level, reinforced with thick iron bars.
The attendant stopped, his grip on Maya's arm tightened for a brief moment—
The first time he had acknowledged her presence since they left the training hall. Then, without a word, he pressed his palm against the access panel beside the door.
A soft chime echoed through the corridor.
ACCESS GRANTED.
The lock disengaged with a heavy metallic click.
The door slid open with a low groan, revealing a darkness so complete that it seemed to swallow the light from the corridor.
Maya stared into the void.
She could see nothing. Just an endless, suffocating blackness that seemed to breathe, to pulse, to wait.
The attendant's hand moved to her back. Before she could react, he shoved her forward.
Maya stumbled into the darkness. Her bare feet struck the cold floor, and she pitched forward, her hands scraping against the concrete as she caught herself.
The impact sent a jolt of pain through her battered frame, but she barely noticed.
Because the door was already closing behind her.
She turned, scrambling to her feet, her heart pounding. The door slid shut with a heavy thud, sealing her inside.
The lock engaged with a series of clicks.
Click.... Click.... Click.
Silence.
Maya stood in the darkness, she could see nothing. Hear nothing.She pressed her hands against the door, pushing, shoving, clawing at the cold metal.
It did not budge.
For a long moment, she simply stood there, her forehead pressed against the cold steel, her breath fogging the metal.
Her mind raced, searching for a way out, a way to escape, a way to survive but there was no escape.
[HISS ]
A soft hiss almost gentle. At first, she thought it was only the ventilation system.
The sound blended with the silence until it became impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
The sound of air being released from a hidden vent somewhere in the ceiling. A faint, bitter smell drifted through the darkness.
Chemical.
It stung the inside of her nose.
She instinctively covered her mouth, taking a slow step backward. Her shoulder struck the cold steel door behind her.
Each breath felt warmer than the last, as though the room itself had begun to exhale.
Maya held her breath as long as she could.
Her lungs burned, she gasped. The first breath tasted wrong.
Her chest tightened, she blinked.The darkness rippled just for an instant.
No...Not the darkness, her vision.
The walls seemed farther away than they had been a moment ago, then closer.
[Thump....Thump ]
The sound no longer felt as though it came from inside her body, It filled the room.
She pressed a hand against the wall to steady herself. The concrete felt strangely soft beneath her fingertips.
She jerked her hand away, No...It was hard again.
The gas was already spreading through the room, seeping into her lungs, entering her bloodstream.
The world tilted around her, spinning, twisting, dissolving. She collapsed to her knees, her hands pressing against the cold floor.
--- 🌼
The darkness shifted. It was no longer empty. It was alive—pulsing, moving.
Shapes began to form in the corners of her vision, twisting and writhing like shadows given life.
Maya blinked, trying to clear her vision but the shapes did not disappear. They grew clearer, more defined.
A sound almost imperceptible.
[Tap…Tap…Tap]
Maya's heart seized in her chest. Her eyes darted around the darkness, searching for
the source of the sound.
The footsteps grew closer, slower.
Maya took a step backward. Then another.
A figure emerged from the void. Tall. Slender. Her face was pale, her features sharp, her dark hair falling in a neat cascade down her back.
The woman from the house, the woman with the dolls who had smiled as she locked her in a cage.
Maya's blood ran cold.
The woman's lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, "Little beauty, Did you think you could escape me?"
Maya's heart pounded in her chest . She wanted to run, wanted to do something, anything—
To get away from this woman who had haunted her nightmares for as long as
she could remember.
Maya stumbled backward, her legs nearly giving way beneath her, she caught herself
on the wall.
"Stay away from me," she whispered, her voice trembling.
The woman's smile widened. "Stay away? But I've missed you, little beauty. I've missed you so much."
She took another step forward.
Maya stumbled forward, her feet slapping against the cold concrete. Her arms flailed wildly, trying to find purchase on the walls, trying to steady herself.
But her legs gave out beneath her.
Her knees struck the concrete with a sharp crack, her hands scraped against the floor,
the skin tearing, the blood welling up in tiny, glistening beads.
She forced herself to look up.
The woman was standing directly behind her.
Her face was inches away. Her dark eyes were fixed on Maya's. Her smile was wide, triumphant,
"Did you think you could run from me?" she whispered, her breath cold against Maya's skin. "Did you think you could hide?"
Maya's body trembled violently. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, her entire being consumed by
a terror so profound that it threatened to swallow her whole.
The woman reached out. Her fingers brushed against Maya's cheek,
"You are mine," she whispered. "You have always been mine and you will always be mine."
Maya opened her mouth and screamed.
It was a scream of pure, unadulterated terror—a scream that tore its way out of her throat, echoing through the darkness like a cry for help that no one would ever hear.
The sound filled the room, bouncing off the walls, reverberating through the silence.
The woman did not move. She simply watched.
Slowly, the woman's form began to dissolve. Her features blurred, her edges softening, her body dissolving into the void like smoke.
---🌸
Maya's screams continued even as the woman faded, she could not stop.
The sound tore through her, raw and broken, until her throat was raw and her voice was hoarse.
And then—silence.
Maya collapsed onto the cold concrete floor, her body trembling, her face was wet with tears, her eyes red and swollen.
She curled into a ball on the cold floor, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around her body. She was shaking, trembling, her entire body wracked with sobs that she could not control.
She had never felt so broken.
And for the first time in as long as she could remember, she allowed herself to cry. Not the quiet sobs she had learned to suppress.
But loud, ugly, desperate cries that tore through her body, releasing the pain she
had been holding in for so long.