Page 9 of Echoes

When I step foot inside, I'm easily the last to arrive. Patients are sitting at tables, eating obliviously—death is normal at Lilydale, so life goes on.

A few people throw glances my way—some pitiful, some angry. It burns a hole in my stomach, my face flushing with panic. The pain of being exposed is still real, coupled now with my arrest. I've had a target on my back since day one, and despite it all, some people here would still love to watch me go down in flames.

"Can I just go back to my room?" I ask the guard quietly.

He huffs at me, shaking his head. Resigning, I slowly walk to the food, barely able to feel the hunger in my numb body. I grab a piece of unbuttered toast, taking a small bite.

My feet start to walk toward my usual table, but I halt, conflicted. I can feel multiple eyes on me, and I do my best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. But in spite of my best efforts of control, I look up, finding Grey at a table with Damon and their usual crew.

I'm surprised to find him staring back at me, his face void of emotion. Damon looks at Grey to see what has his attention, before turning his head toward me.

I look away quickly. I can't deal with that right now.

Up ahead, I spot Theo at our table, and my heart misses a beat when I find him watching me too. He never normally looks up until I'm in my seat, and there's a small bit of confusion on his face—like he's waiting for me, puzzled as to why I've stopped walking over.

You have to keep away from them…

Whittingham's threat still hangs over my head. I want nothing more than to run to either of them. But I don't.

I take a place against the wall, staring unfocused at the floor as I nibble on toast for the sake of routine. Neither of them approach me—or anyone—and when we're finally ushered out ofthe hall at the end of breakfast, I'm manhandled again by the guard.

"What now?" I ask through clenched teeth as he squeezes a bruise.

"It's time for your psych assessment," he grunts, pulling me toward Dr. Smith's office.

Chapter 4

Avery

"Avery, it's so good to see you," Dr. Smith says happily as I'm shoved through his office door.

He seems absolutely unbothered by the fact I was just yeeted into his office like a ragdoll.

I shoot a glance at the guard, who slams the door closed in my face. Grumbling, I turn back to look at Dr. Smith, perched behind his desk, hands neatly folded together.

"Yeah, hi," I reply tonelessly.

"Take a seat," he directs warmly, motioning to the chairs.

I do so, but only because my legs are threatening to collapse underneath me. A huge sigh of relief slips out of me when my ass touches the seat, and I'm annoyed to find Dr. Smith already making notes.

"What are you writing now?" I grumble.

He looks up, pausing. "Just making some initial assessments and observations."

I fold my arms. "And what happens if I fail this wonderful psych assessment?"

"Doyouthink you'll fail?"

"Who knows with this place? You might botch the results."

Dr. Smith puts his pen down, a concerned frown on his face. "Why would I do that, Avery?"

I scoff. "You already proved that your ethics are fucked. I wouldn't put it past anyone in this place to do something for their own benefit."

He smiles gently. "I'm just going to ask you some standard questions. You don't have to answer if you don't want to but it would help."

I stay quiet, looking away, gaze stuck on the damn filing cabinet that started this mess.

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