Page 83 of Rescuing Sophia

Does it understand commands?

I remember Mitzy’s excited chatter about her invention, claiming it was revolutionary. But the specifics are lost to me now, washed away by fear and exhaustion.

As I release the drone and watch it flit toward the ceiling, a fragment of memory surfaces. Mitzy’s enthusiastic voice:“They’re great for getting covert intel on the ground. No one pays attention to bugs.”

The drone disappears from view, seeking out any crack or crevice that might lead to freedom. I’m left alone once more, staring at the spot where it vanished, with Mitzy’s words echoing in my mind.

No one pays attention to bugs.

Could it be that simple? In this fortress, could my salvation come from something so small and so easily overlooked?

The reality of what I’ve done crashes over me. I’ve pinned all my hopes on a device I barely understand, in a fortress halfway around the world from everyone I love.

The drone can’t possibly fly back to the US, can it? Even if it could, how would it find Blake? How would it lead anyone here?

Maybe it doesn’t need to make the journey all at once. Maybe it can gather information bit by bit, unnoticed by Malfor and his men. It’s a long shot, but it is something to cling to rather than fall into an abyss of despair.

Hysterical laughter bubbles up in my throat. I choke it back, terrified of making noise. I sink to the cold floor, wrapping my arms around myself as if I could physically hold the pieces of my sanity together.

This is madness. All of it. I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from, and I’ve just sent my only tangible link to the outside world on an impossible mission.

Tears stream down my face, silent and relentless. This is a place where hope comes to die. The brave front I’ve been trying to maintain crumbles, leaving me raw and exposed.

Fear courses through me—fear for my life, for Luke’s life, for the future that seems bleaker with each passing second.

What will Malfor do to me? What horrors await when the sun rises? The uncertainty is almost worse than knowing.

Almost.

I curl into myself, making my body as small as possible. As if by shrinking physically, I can somehow disappear entirely and escape this hell, if only in my mind.

But there’s no escape.

No reprieve from this living hell.

The drone was my last act of defiance, my final grasp of hope. And now it’s gone, leaving me utterly alone. The cold of the stone floor seeps into my bones, a physical reminder of the chill that’s settled in my heart.

The Sophia who walked into Guardian HQ, who fell in love with Blake and dared to dream of a better life is gone. In her place is this hollow shell, trembling on a bathroom floor in a fortress of nightmares.

I am broken.

Shattered into a thousand pieces, with no idea how—or if—I’ll ever be whole again.

And yet, some small, stubborn part of me refuses to let go entirely. It clings to the memory of the drone, to Mitzy’s words:

No one pays attention to bugs.

It’s not hope—I’m too far gone for that. But it’s—something. A gossamer thread in a sea of darkness.

It’s all I have left. A tiny, buzzing chance that, somehow, a little bumblebee might make all the difference in this world of monsters.

A harsh buzzing suddenly fills the room. Fluorescent lights flicker to life, momentarily blinding me. A voice, tinny and distorted, comes through a hidden speaker:

“Sleep well, Sophia. Tomorrow, your training begins.”

The lights cut out as abruptly as they came on, plunging me into a darkness so complete I can’t see my hand inches from my face. The promise of what’s to come hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating blanket of dread settling over me. My breath echoes in the confined space, sharp and shallow, and each exhale is swallowed by the oppressive void.

I reach out, fingers brushing cold, rough concrete before I stumble into the hard metal cot. There’s no comfort here—just a thin, lumpy mattress with no sheets, no pillow. Nothing to soften the harsh edges of this cruel reality. My body aches from the earlier punishment, and the cold bites through the thin fabric of my clothes, seeping into my bones.

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