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I locked eyes with him, the air between us charged with tension.
The Supervisor smirked, leaning back in his chair. “I see you are a philosopher.”
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the coolness of the room seeping through my clothing.
Every sense was heightened, from the soft murmur of the Supervisor’s voice to the distant hum of a prison well-run.
“I did what you asked,” I finally said, eager to break the standoff.
He stood up, pacing around his office, the soft light from the room’s chandeliers catching the glint in his eyes. “Yes, you did, didn’t you.”
A big, broad grin adorned his face, but it wasn’t one of mirth.
It was the kind that spelled triumph, the kind that emerges from victory acquired at the expense of others.
I’d thought that by upholding my end of the bargain, I would feel a semblance of relief, perhaps even a tinge of happiness.
But in its place, an empty pit gaped in my stomach.
I could only imagine what Ceara had endured for the Supervisor to wear such a self-satisfied expression.
My senses tingled with apprehension; the musky aroma of the Supervisor’s cologne, stronger than usual, filled the room.
Without a word, the Supervisor circled his desk and took a seat.
The leather chair creaked under his weight, the sound jarringly loud in the otherwise silent room.
He interlaced his fingers, studying me with those piercing eyes. “Ellie,” he began, his voice smooth, almost soothing, “I must commend you for your cooperation. Everything has proceeded as planned.”
There was no warmth in his words, only cold calculation.
I forced a nod, my fingers playing with the hem of my dress, feeling the soft, velvety fabric under my fingertips. “And Ceara?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He waved a hand dismissively. “He’s… indisposed at the moment. But don’t concern yourself with him.”
That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.
My heart raced, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple.
The room suddenly felt too warm, the air too thick to breathe.
Sensing my distress, the Supervisor’s grin widened. “Now, as promised, a private shuttle awaits to transport you back to Earth. But before you leave, may I offer you a parting gift? A Mind Wipe.”
Confusion coursed through me. “A what?”
“A Mind Wipe,” he repeated, leaning back, the light from his desk lamp reflecting off his shining compound eyes. “A procedure that’ll erase all memories of your time here. You’ll wake up in your bed on Earth, with no recollection of any of this. No Ceara, no Ikmal, no guilt. A fresh start.”
The prospect was tempting.
To forget all the pain, all the anguish, to wipe away the slate clean.
My fingers twitched involuntarily, the weight of my choices threatening to overwhelm me.
I could hear the faint buzz of the room’s electronics, their hum filling the space between the Supervisor’s words.
My mouth felt dry.
I would agree to wipe the Supervisor, Ikmal, becoming a Prize, the entire night when I’d been abducted, everything about this place from my mind with barely even requiring a heartbeat’s thought.
