Page 59 of Immersed
Levi jerked forward, slamming into the metal shelving with a clatter that seemed deafening in the confined space. He spun to face Asher, back pressed against the shelves, heart hammering against his ribs.
“W-what did you say?”he demanded, voice hoarse with sudden fear.
Asher remained still like a predator.“You know what I said.”
The closet felt like a trap—Asher between Levi and the only exit, the air thick with unspoken threats. All pretense of changed nature, of cooperation, evaporated in the wake of those whispered words.
He’s testing me,Levi realized.Seeing how far he can push before I break.
“You promised,”Levi reminded him, hand fumbling for anything weapon-like on the shelves behind him.“You said youweregoing to be a gentleman.”
“I am being a gentleman,”Asher replied, making no move to approach.“But I remember what I did to you.”His head tilted slightly.“What I still want to do to you.”
Levi’s fingers closed around a screwdriver, gripping it like a lifeline.“St-stay back.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,”Asher said with chilling composure.“But I’m not going to lie about what I am either.”He stepped aside, clearing the path to the door.“I want you to trust me.”
The gesture should have been reassuring, but it only heightened Levi’s unease. This calculated manipulation felt more dangerous than outright threats—Asher testing boundaries, revealing his true nature in controlled doses to see how Levi would react.
“We should keep moving,”Asher continued as if nothing happened.“That thing will circle back.”
Levi kept the screwdriver clutched in his white-knuckled grip as he edged toward the door, unwilling to turn his back on Asher again. The momentary illusion of trust shattered, leaving only the hard reality that his companion remained what hehadalways been—a predator playing a longer game.
“After you,”Levi said coldly, gesturing toward the corridor with his makeshift weapon.
Levi maintained careful distance between them, the screwdriver a comforting weight in his palm. Whatever game Asherwasplaying, whatever his true intentions, one thing became crystal clear:
The monster hadn’t changed. It had simply learned patience.
20
Clipping
Thecorridorsstretchedahead,each turn revealing more impossible architecture. Levi consulted his compass, watching the needle spin wildly before settling on readings that made no geographic sense. They’d been walking for twenty minutes, but the hospital’s layout defied all logic.
“We should have hit an exterior wall by now,”Levi muttered, studying the building schematics on his phone.“According to these plans, we’ve walked three times the building’s actual width.”
The wrongness of it made his skin crawl.He’dalways been good with spatial reasoning—hadto be, growing up in a cramped apartment where every inch mattered. But this place seemed designed to break those instincts, to make him doubt his own sense of direction and distance.
Asher maintained his careful distance, hands visible and movements deliberate.“Maybe the plans are wrong.”
“Or maybe we’re not in the same building anymore.”Levi stopped at an intersection, shining his flashlight down each branching path. The beams revealed identical corridors stretching into darkness, each one indistinguishable from the others.
That’s when he saw it—a directory mounted on the wall, its plastic surface cracked but still legible. Most of the textwasstandard medical-sounding departments: Radiology, Pharmacy, and Patient Records. But at the bottom, in smaller print,werelistings that didn’t sound right.
“Central Operations - Sublevel 3,”he read aloud.“Patient Monitoring Systems. Behavioral Observation Suite.”His voice cracked on the last entry.“Containment Protocol Dashboard.”
Holy shit.The words hit him like puzzle pieces clicking into place. All those patient records they found, Dr. Faine’s research notes, the automatic systems built into every wall and door—itwasn’tabout treating mental illness. Itwasabout studying it. Controlling it.
Asher stepped closer, reading over his shoulder.“Containment protocol? What kind of hospital needs—”
“It’s n-not a hospital.”Levi’s grip tightened on the screwdriver until his knuckles went white.“It’s a prison. A place designed to trap people.”
We’re not investigators,he thought, panic rising in his chest.We’re the latest batch of test subjects.
“I don’t understand,”Asher said, genuine confusion in his voice.“A prison for who?”
“For people like us,”Levi said.“People who stumbled into something theywerenever meant to find.”
