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The pungent, metallic undertone threatened to choke me. “Exactly as you described it. The assembly, the flash, the chaos…”
Silence enveloped us, broken only by the distant hum of machinery and the soft murmur of prisoners in distant cells.
It felt suffocating.
The feeling of moisture, tiny droplets of sweat, began to form on my brow.
“I get the lottery numbers, Ceara. That’s harmless. That’s fun even,” she continued, her tone shaking. “But this? Being an unwitting accomplice to an assassination?”
I looked into her eyes, searching for understanding, seeking forgiveness. “Ellie, they were going to do it anyway. I just… I just confirmed their success. Made it certain.”
Ellie’s face contorted with frustration and disbelief.
I felt a pang in my chest, sharper than any physical blow.
Her warm hand met my cold, clammy one. “Is that supposed to make it better? Knowing you didn’t cause it but simply sealed someone’s fate?”
I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat, my mouth suddenly dry despite my heightened senses.
The silence in the room grew louder, almost oppressive.
I could smell the subtle mix of her perfume, the lingering scent of food from earlier, and beneath it all, the ever-present clinical aroma of the prison.
“Ellie, I had no choice,” I murmured, feeling as though my words were being drawn out from deep within me. “They strapped me in, made me see. I can’t control what visions come or how they use them.”
She took a deep breath, her eyes glistening, threatening tears.
The salty scent of impending tears reached me, adding to the heavy atmosphere of the cell. “I know you didn’t choose this life, Ceara. I know you’re a victim too. But we can’t let them use you like this.”
She took another deep breath. “Or me.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine. “There’s something I haven’t told you, something you need to know.”
I felt the fear rise inside me.
Few could truly harm me in this place, but that look, that broken look on Ellie’s face now, could floor me unlike a blow from anyone else.
“What?” I asked tentatively. “What is it?”
* * *
The air in the cell felt denser than usual, or perhaps it was the weight of Ellie’s imminent confession pressing on me.
The ever-present humming from the prison’s systems was distant, like the backdrop to our enclosed universe. “It’s about me,” Ellie began, her voice sounding distant, “and how I came to be here.”
I could feel the cool, firm touch of the metal bed frame beneath my fingers, but my full focus was on Ellie.
Her scent, usually so calming — a mix of fresh flowers and the faintest hint of a spice I couldn’t identify — was overshadowed by a subtle tinge of nervousness.
I inhaled deeply, trying to draw comfort from her familiar aroma.
She took a shaky breath, her delicate hands fidgeting with the thin fabric of her dress.
The soft rustling sound it made seemed abnormally loud in the quiet cell. “When I first met you, it wasn’t by accident. The Supervisor recruited me, not just for my medical skills but also… to get close to you. He wanted me to heal you physically and emotionally.”
My heart pounded loudly in my chest, so much so that I felt certain Ellie could hear it.
I kept my gaze on her, although the cell around us started to blur, my senses becoming overwhelmed.
