Page 32 of Hidden Echoes

She doesn’t hesitate before smiling back, nodding like that’s all she needed. Like that’s the answer to everything.

“You’re good,” she says, pointing at my notebook. “I read her story.”

I pause. Surprised. “I thought you were in a cage.”

Mia shrugs. “At times.”

She hesitates, then adds, “To be honest, at one point, I kind of lost track of where I really was. But I was raised in a basement, at first. It had some stuff, and Katie taught me how to read and write. I liked Greek mythology. It was fun.” She pauses, like she’s sorting through old memories. “I also lived in my master’s house for a while. But I wasn’t allowed to leave the wing assigned to me.”

I exhale. “So you never saw the sun.”

“Not really,” she says. “I just never got to feel it on my skin. Never got to step outside. But I could watch TV, read, play instruments… So I’m not completely out of touch with reality.” She grins, like it’s a joke.

I don’t know what to say to that.

So I say nothing.

And Mia doesn’t seem to mind the silence. She talks and I listen.

“I had a lot of training, you know? Nothing too crazy, just the usual stuff. They tested me, pushed me, and taught me how to hide my feelings. It’s funny, really—after everything they threw at me, I just got better at killing. The cage was mostly for when I misbehaved or when they needed my monster to come out and play. Sometimes, I’d get a littletooexcited with the whole torture thing. The blood? It was kind of fun—reallysatisfying, actually. But hey, my master always said it was about the quality, not the quantity. So, there’s that!”

I stare at her, somewhat speechless, as she casually describes the horrors she endured there, like they were just everyday occurrences—like she had never known there could be any other way to live.

The calmness in her voice, the complete lack of surprise or disgust—it’s unsettling, as if those things were nothing more than a natural part of her world.

“Oh, and, I had some friends at the brothel who got tattoos too.” Her voice takes on a distant quality, something wistful, like she’s reminiscing. “That’s how I got these.” She rolls up her sleeve, revealing dark ink along her arm.

Then, she looks at her leg.

And the smile vanishes.

“This one was a punishment,” she murmurs. “I didn’t choose it.”

Her voice stays light. Sweet. Too sweet. Like it’s just another fact. Like it doesn’t mean anything.

For a second, I can’t move.

Then, I force myself to look.

The axe scar carved into her skin. The bigJ, the handcuffs burned into her flesh.

I swallow hard. My chest tightens, something deep and unbearable settling in my ribs.

Mia watches me carefully. She doesn’t say anything.

I exhale, the words leaving my mouth before I can stop them.

“Do you want to cover it?” My voice is lower than I intended.

She blinks, tilting her head.

“Cover it?”

"Yes." I tilt the notebook slightly, as if that somehow explains everything. "You can choose a design, and I’ll cover it up. That way, it’ll be your choice."

Her eyes flicker with something I can’t quite name.

"Would you really do that?" Her voice is quiet, hesitant.

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