Page 105 of Irreversible

A song.

The first few notes ring out, freezing me to the floor. I stop moving, stop clawing, my heartbeats a frenzied dance to a melody that’s never far from my mind.

The Scientist.

I’m breathing heavily, drinking in the chords and lyrics as the singer croons the theme song to my soul. Tears well, trapped by the itchy cloth.

“What is this…” I croak out, weeping with bone-deep emotion.

“Oh, you know, silly.” He chuckles, tugging the blindfold off my eyes. “It’s your favorite song. I thought this moment was deserving of a soundtrack.”

“How—how did you…?”Has he been listening to us, after all?I blink rapidly, trying to rein in my muddy vision. We’re in a tiny holding room—sterile, blank, no different from my cell. Glancing around, I try to make out something of relevance, but there’s nothing.

“Well, it would be irresponsible of me not to educate myself on the ins and outs of my long-term residents, don’t you think?Especially when it takes nothing more than a quick Google search to pull up that interview you did on social media, just before your life took such an unfortunate turn.”

Bile burns the back of my throat.

He’s toying with me.

“Stand up.” He nudges me with his foot until I rise to shaky legs. “Walk.”

Moisture slides down my cheeks as I step forward, the song playing from an overhead speaker system. He jabs me again, toward another door.

“Please.” It’s a whisper, a plea for something. For anything other than this. I know death looms on the other side of that blank door. It’s a trick, an illusion. A doorway to hell. “Please don’t do this.”

A hand meets my back, shoving me forward. Stumbling, I move closer to the door, holding my breath as my hand pulls the handle.

I open it.

My eyes lock on a man tied to a chair with a bag over his head.

Dolph stands beside the man, his barreling arms crossed over his chest as he stares at me with emotionless dark eyes.

I part my lips to say something, but only a squeak falls out.

I’m pushed farther inside, and the door shuts behind me. I glance at The Timekeeper, taking in the look of pure enchantment on his face.

Then I look back over at the man.

His head is bowed, both corded arms locked behind his back with thick rope. Dirty jeans taper two long legs, his feet bare, ankles chained to chair legs. A navy T-shirt is glued to his muscled torso, torn and tattered, stained with dark-brown blood.

My chin quivers. “Who is this?”

The man’s head snaps up—every muscle tightens, his veins popping. “Everly.”

My eyes widen as all the air whooshes out of me.

I can’t breathe.

The song plays, my heart twists, and my body lurches forward. “Isaac!”

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

My tears fall harder as I rush over to him, desperate to pull the bag off his head. Needing to see his face. But I’m caught by my hair the moment I’m within reaching distance. “No!”

Isaac works his chains and ropes, shaking the chair so hard it nearly tips over. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

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