Page 21 of Artifice
She pulled out her phone to document what she was seeing.
What exactly was going on here at Lighthouse Harbor?
Whatever it was, she didn’t like it.
She pictured Colin in here.
She imagined the fear and desperation on his fifteen-year-old face—his mischievous eyes, the spots of acne on his pale skin, his messy blond hair.
No kid should have to feel that way.
What had that girl said? That people stayed in here however long it took to learn their lesson?
Did that mean someone might be in here for hours? Days? That they’d be in here with no window, padded walls, and restrained by handcuffs?
It looked as if the school had kept one of the mental hospital rooms as it was before transforming the place.
This room was a thing of nightmares.
Olive didn’t want to stay in here any longer.
She needed to leave.
Before she could move, the click of the door shutting behind her sent a jolt of adrenaline through her.
Olive whirled around, lunging for the handle.
But the door wouldn’t budge.
At the same moment, the overhead light went out . . . plunging her into absolute darkness.
“Hello?” Olive called out, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Is someone there?”
The silence that answered felt heavy, oppressive.
She fumbled with her phone, trying to use its flashlight.
She frowned when she saw the screen. No signal?
That was okay. She could still use her flashlight.
Except . . . the battery mysteriously drained before her eyes.
Within seconds, the screen went black.
What? How had that happened?
She pressed her back against the wall, away from those restraints she could no longer see but knew were there.
Think this through, Olive. There’s no reason to panic. There’s nothing in here to harm you.
In the perfect darkness, her other senses heightened.
Was that . . . was that breathing she heard on the other side of the door?
Someone was listening, she realized.
“I know you’re out there.” Olive forced strength into her voice despite the fear clawing at her throat. “Let me out.”
