Page 72 of Wicked Little Nightmare

Much to my surprise there was a man — a man in a white coat, hunched over a microscope. My breath caught in my throat.This is it.

He must've heard the door, because he spun around, eyes wide with panic. "Who—" he started, but I was already moving.

He bolted for another exit, but I was faster. My knife found his leg with practiced ease, and he went down with a shriek.

"Fuck!" he gasped, clutching at the wound. "What do you want?"

I crouched beside him, rage blurring my vision. "Oh, honey. I want for one of you fucking assholes to give me some Goddamn answers for once!"

His eyes darted around, searching for an escape. I pressed the tip of my blade against his throat, just hard enough to draw a bead of blood.

"Let's start simple," I cooed. "What the fuck are you doing to young women down here?"

He swallowed hard. "It's... it's a reproductive program. Highly classified."

I tilted my head, feeling a cold rage building inside me. "Reproductive program? That's a fancy way of saying you're torturing girls."

His eyes widened in recognition. "Wait... Patient X? Lakey?"

What? What the fuck. How did he know me?

"What did you just call me?" I hissed, pressing the knife harder.

"You're Patient X," he stammered. "But you shouldn't be here. How did you—"

I cut him off, grabbing his coat and yanking him close. "Tell me everything. Now."

But he clamped his mouth shut, his hands trembling as his eyes welled with tears.

My mind raced.Patient X? What the fuck did that mean?Searching my mind, nothing came up. I’d filled in a blank, but so many more remained.

"Listen, asshole," I growled, my facade of sweetness cracking. "You're going to tell me exactly what's going on here or I swear to God, I'll carve the answers out of you piece by fucking piece."

The doctor whimpered, but still said nothing.

I felt myself slipping, the rage and desperation threatening to consume me. I needed answers. I needed to understand why this place felt so familiar, why my memories were so fragmented. Why the fuck they had me in that room, drawing pictures and memorizing some fucked up poem.

"Please," I whispered, surprising myself with the vulnerability in my voice. "I need to know."

The doctor's eyes darted around wildly, like a cornered animal. "The Vessel," he blurted out suddenly. "She's the key to everything."

My heart stopped. "What vessel?"

"The little girl," he babbled, words spilling out in a rush. "She'll change everything. She's special, unique. The culmination of years of work."

A jolt of recognition shot through me. My daughter. He had to be talking about my daughter. The anger I'd been barely containing erupted like a volcano.

"Where is she?" I snarled, pressing my face close to his. "What have you done with her?"

Before he could answer, heavy footsteps approached. Cam's imposing figure filled the doorway, his dark eyes taking in the scene.

"I remember you… you fuck! We should take him with us," Cam said, his voice low and menacing. "Get more information."

I shook my head, not taking my eyes off the doctor. "No. We finish this here."

The doctor's gaze shifted to Cam, and his expression changed to one of awe. "Patient Y?" he breathed. "My God, look how you've grown. So intimidating, so... detached. Just as we hoped." He clapped, “And the two of you together? Magnificent.”

Cam's brow furrowed in confusion. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

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