Page 33 of Irreversible

He’s as observant as he is unpleasant. “A perk of having been here for two years.”

“And you haven’t tried to escape? Why? You must have a semblance of a brain, since you’ve survived this long. Is the food here that good?”

Blowing sections of chaotic hair out of my face, I turn and press my back to the wall. “I haven’t had an opportunity.”

“Did they remove your legs?”

“I’m compliant. That’s why I’m still alive.”

“Inactivity has never won a war.”

I tug the gown over my knees and drop my head against the wall. “I tried, in the beginning. But I’m five-foot-two and one-hundred-fifteen pounds. Probably less now. Fighting only got me chained and starved, so I’ve had no choice but to play the long game, using my mind as a tool instead of force. I don’t stand a chance against these men.”

I realize compliance will only take me so far, but it’s kept me breathing, and breathing is the only power I have left in this heartless hell. If I’m breathing, there’s a sliver of hope that I’ll see the other side of these walls one day.

If only Jasper was waiting for me.

God, I can’t think about that.

About him.

Early on, I demanded the truth from The Timekeeper. I clawed at him, hurled myself at the wall, screamed threats, spat curses, sobbed until my voice gave out. I was relentless in my pain. All it earned me was a chain around my ankle and no answers.

I couldn’t trust him anyway.

So, I clung to hope—hope that Jasper was still alive, still looking for me.

Then there was Mary: a pediatric nurse, huddled on the other side of our shared wall. By then, I’d been here a couple of months, begging and pleading for any scrap of news from the other victims. But they’d all shut down, men and women alike, retreating into their silence. I couldn’t blame them for not caring about a stranger’s disappearance when they were now trapped in the same nightmare. Some weren’t even from around here, snatched up from states away, oblivious to my case.

But Mary knew things.

And her words still haunt me, echoing like a grim dirge.

“Jasper Cross, right? He was your husband?” she asked, her voice low and careful, as though the truth might break me. “You’re that model who went missing?”

Was.

The word detonated in my chest. “Yes, yes… Is he okay? Was he on the news?” I flung myself at the barrier, fists pounding, tears blurring the edges of my vision. “Did he survive?”

Her silence stretched, suffocating, until it collapsed under the weight of my desperation. When she spoke again, her words carved my greatest fear into stone. “Well, he was on the news, but…he didn’t make it. He was found dead at the scene. I’m so sorry.”

The ground beneath me crumbled. My world didn’t just go up in flames—it disintegrated, leaving nothing but ashes of a life I could never reclaim.

That’s when I truly became compliant. Submissive, agreeable, and unassertive.

But time has breached the bubble of despair, and I know I still have plenty of things to hold on to—Allison, my mother, friends, loved ones, and an endless stretch of opportunities, waiting to be recovered and woven into a bright future.

“If I see a viable way out, I’ll take it,” I finally say, knocking my knees together. “I have one chance to make it count. It needs to be the right time.”

Nick grumbles. “The right time would be now, since yesterday is over. And the day before. And?—”

“Who’s Sara?”

Silence answers me. Nick enjoys asking questions as much as he enjoys dodging them. I wonder about his life outside of here. What was his job? Did he have close friends, family, dreams? Everybody has something to lose, things they’re leaving behind.

And that’s what makes this so tragic.

I’m debating my next words when the keypad on my door tings to life. My eyes widen, and I melt into the wall behind me, my lips grazing it as I twist my head to the side. “Keep quiet.” It’s a whisper, but harsh enough to travel over to him. “I’ll handle this.”

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