Chapter 12

Sara was worried because Oliver knew every nook and cranny of the building. In the room where they had been hiding so far, he found a passage leading to the underground. She didn't like the idea at all, but if they stayed there any longer, they would surely be caught. Escaping through the underground was their only option.

All the way, Oliver carried her in his arms—she still hadn't recovered. She was grateful for his help, though she couldn't shake the feeling that the boy was hiding some dark secret. From the start, Oliver had caught her attention because his behavior was different. Though he was friends with the most popular boy in the center, he didn't care about popularity at all. He preferred to avoid talking to anyone, was reserved with everyone, and when he did speak, his words were often sharp and unkind.

From Matthew, Sara had learned that Oliver had a rough past, which explained his coldness toward people. She didn't know exactly what had happened, but the more she watched him, the more intrigued she became. He was definitely hiding something dark—she would've bet her hand on it.

"Once we're in the corridor, we're safe. They only harm people who are confined. They don't want anyone to know about it, so after every visit, the students are intimidated. You saw what happened to Julia. It would have been the same for you if you stayed there until morning," Oliver said, still carrying her. She wasn't light, and it was hard for him, yet he refused to put her down.

"How do you know all this?" she asked.

"I'd rather you stayed unconscious..." He broke off, and Sara noticed his lip trembling. He seemed haunted by a terrible thought, a flicker of fear crossing his face. "For many years, my life has been a bloody hell. Since I got here, it's only gotten worse. You guys have families—they can hurt you, but they won't kill you. With me, it's different. I'm like those kids you found underground. I'm an orphan, just like them."

Sara hadn't expected that. She hadn't imagined Oliver might not have a family.

"I know what you're thinking," he added, helping her sit on the floor. He needed to rest. He crouched opposite her and rubbed his face with his hands. "I was never in an orphanage. My father went crazy and killed my mother right in front of me while I was playing hide and seek with her. He tried to do the same to me, but I hid in the closet and watched the terror from there. We were left without money. He couldn't find a job, so he decided we'd be better off dead."

Sara froze, covering her mouth in shock as she looked at Oliver, who shed a tear. It was the first time she had seen him cry. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, not wanting to show weakness, but she felt the weight of his suffering.

"I managed to escape. My father committed suicide, and I wandered the streets looking for shelter. I was afraid to go home—I knew what was happening there. That's when I met the director, and he promised me a home. There were other kids too—kids who had died before. We had one condition to live here: we had to be on their side, do everything they told us. I had no choice. I was scared and couldn't escape. The three kids you found—they rebelled and started uncovering the center's past. They wanted me to join them, to help end it. But they were caught. Then the director decided to kill them and hide their bodies underground. Nobody asked questions because they were orphans from the street. By helping you, I rebelled for the first time. I couldn't let them hurt you. I'd already told them everything. And I was the one who said you and Alan were in the underground. I'm sorry I ratted you out—I was just scared."

Sara wasn't angry. She sympathized with him. What Oliver had experienced was terrible. He had no choice but to report everything to them. If he didn't, they would get rid of him like the others. Every day, he woke up with fear, wondering if he was still useful to them. Not only had he suffered cruelty in his past, but now he was living through hell again. That was why he was so cold toward others.

Now, Sara understood.

"Sometimes, I think it would have been better if my father had killed me that day too," he confessed, his voice heavy. Tears filled Sara's eyes as she looked at him and shook her head firmly. Oliver hid his face between his knees.

"I'd rather die than be tied to those beasts," he said.

She couldn't let him think that, especially now when he was in danger. If they found out he helped her, they could hurt him. Oliver was Matthew's best friend, and now he had earned Sara's trust too. She couldn't turn her back on him. He had no choice. He was doing what he had to do to survive.

"Am I the only one who knows the truth?" she asked uncertainly.

Oliver lifted his face and nodded.

"Matthew only knows about my past. He thinks my aunt sent me here because she couldn't raise me. I'm only telling you because I think you deserve the truth after all I've done to you."

Sara smiled softly to show him she was on his side. Oliver wasn't a bad boy—he did all this out of compulsion, because he had no choice.

She felt sorry for him and would do anything to help him get out of this mess, but she was as powerless as he was. They were all pawns in their sick game.

*

After a short rest, they managed to leave the underground. Oliver only put her down in front of the room she shared with Laura.

The 17-year-old immediately grew worried about him. She was even afraid to help him get safely back to his own room. Oliver was in danger—if anyone found out he had helped her, it could end badly. He was the only one with the key card for the door leading to the psychologist's office.

The brunet started to leave, but Sara grabbed his hand. She didn't know what was driving her, but since coming to the center, she was growing bolder every day—especially with boys.

"Stay in my room. At least then I'll know you're safe," she offered. Then it struck her what he was really thinking. This was completely unlike her, but his safety came first. "Please," she insisted.

She didn't have to wait long for his consent because they suddenly heard a voice nearby. They hurried inside and shut the door behind them. Sara looked at Oliver, concern heavy in her eyes. "Good thing I didn't let you leave."

Someone tugged on the doorknob, and Sara grabbed Oliver's hand tightly. Fear clenched her chest—it could be one of the teachers or the principal.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Laura's voice. Only then did she realize Laura wasn't in the room.

"Sara, are you there?"

Without thinking, she opened the door, and her roommate threw herself into her arms.

"You don't even know how worried we were. We went looking for you. Where have you been?" Laura asked, scanning Sara's face closely. "Why are you so pale? You look like you're about to faint. Are you okay?"

"Laura, it's a long story. I promise I'll tell you everything tomorrow."

Only then did Sara notice Oliver hiding just behind Laura's back. Surprised, she blinked, not quite believing her eyes, then shifted her gaze back to Laura.

"He helped me. I wanted him to stay with us tonight," she explained.

Her answer clearly surprised Laura. The brunette's eyes widened, unsure what to make of it. "I'm guessing what you're thinking right now, but honestly, I don't have the strength to explain myself. I can barely stand."

"Alan and Matthew are also looking for you. Your blond boy went to the underground, and I'm a little worried about him," Laura said. Sara barely registered the possessive "your." Her focus was on the fact he had gone in alone.

"Alan's untouchable, so he's safe," Oliver interjected, trying to reassure her. Still, a small part of Sara felt uneasy that Matthew had gone alone, especially in the middle of the night.

"I have to lie down—I'm exhausted." Her knees gave way, and Oliver helped her to the bed. Sara felt Laura's eyes on her, curious about their relationship.

It took only moments before Sara fell asleep. The drug the psychologist had injected was still working, leaving her weak and drained.

Oliver stepped away from the bed and glanced toward Laura, who had been watching him with suspicion the entire time. She squinted, as if trying to figure him out.

The boy rubbed his forehead. "What do you want to know? I just helped Sara. The important thing is she's safe."

"And am I saying anything?" Laura shrugged.

Oliver headed for the door but stopped mid-step when Laura spoke again. "You can be happy—Matthew and I are done. I don't know what I saw in that nasty asshole," she added through clenched teeth.

"There was never anything between you two anyway—he was just playing you. I thought you knew that," Oliver said. Before pressing the door handle, he added, "If Sara asks about me, tell her I was here all night."

*

When Sara woke up, it was already dawn. Her entire body ached as if she'd been hit by a truck. She didn't even have the strength to get out of bed. Worse, she heard soft sobbing nearby.

She turned her head and saw Laura, crying. Her roommate looked utterly drained—her eyes swollen and red, hair disheveled, with used tissues scattered around the room.

"Laura, what's wrong?" Sara asked softly.

The brunette jumped up, hastily rubbing her face as if trying to erase the traces of her tears.

Looking at Sara, Laura broke down once more. If such a tough, fearless girl was falling apart, something terrible must have happened.

"It's just Matthew," Laura said, voice trembling with anger. "I thought he cared about me, but he treated me like a rag to wipe his feet on!" She raised her voice and waved her handkerchief in frustration. No makeup could hide how broken she looked.

Sara realized just how deeply Laura loved Matthew. She had noticed it from the start, but Matthew didn't seem interested in her the way Laura hoped.

To Sara, he was a good friend—but as a guy, he was a heartbreaker, judging by the wreckage he left behind in Laura. This girl, who was as strong as a rock, was now crumbling…

"I don't want to get in the middle of this, but… do you need anything? Can I help?" Sara asked uncertainly, unsure how to comfort her.

Laura wiped her eyes and shook her head. "I'm crying over that moron, and you've been through hell. Will you tell me what happened? I overheard the director and psychologist talking. Turns out the psychologist is the director's son. They did something to you—and they planned to take Alan's blood."

Sara shivered. "It's not ghosts who are the real threat… it's the people. I found out they were Nazis, which is why the dead girl left a swastika mark on my arm. She wanted me to figure it out. It was a warning." Her voice dropped. "I feel like something terrible is coming, and danger's close."

She told Laura about her visit to the psychologist but left out Oliver entirely. She lied that she had just met him in the hallway, and he helped her get to her room. She couldn't reveal his secret; he had trusted her alone with the truth, and she had to protect him. Oliver was already in enough danger.

As Sara and Laura entered the classroom, all eyes immediately focused on Sara. The students were curious—had she been brainwashed like Julia, who had turned from a wild rebel into a meek lamb?

Sara hated being the center of attention, and now she felt all those gazes burning into her.

She scanned the room and spotted Oliver sitting quietly at his desk. He looked relieved nothing had happened to him, but Sara felt uneasy—Alan wasn't there.

Matthew rose from his seat and came over, placing his hands on Sara's shoulders. Laura shot him a sharp look, biting her lip as she walked away to her bench. Simon called out to Laura, but she ignored him, burying her face in her hands. Matthew didn't even notice.

"I was worried about you. Are you okay?" Matthew asked, eyes searching hers carefully.

"I'm fine," Sara said coldly, "but you might want to check on someone else."

She walked over to her bench, and Oliver gave her a brief "hello." She smiled in return. Oliver returned the smile, but his expression hardened the moment the teacher entered the room.

Sara knew what that meant. She had to act like Oliver was cold and distant toward her—so no one would suspect he'd helped her escape.

Moments later, Alan came in late, rubbing his temples as he slumped into his seat. Sara noticed how pale and tired he looked, mirroring her own state.

She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but the teacher interrupted, sneering.

"Hangover making you tired? How do you fall asleep on the stairs and stay there all night? Surprised no one found you sooner."

Sara's heart sank. Alan had gone looking for her in the underground, and now the teacher mocked him. Had they done the same to him they did to her?

"We both know that's impossible," Alan said in a sarcastic tone. Sara admired his courage—he was the only one who dared stand up to this man. "Strange, though—I didn't drink anything yesterday, and suddenly I just… blacked out."

Sara glanced back at Alan, noticing him watching her carefully, as if making sure she was okay. She smiled softly; he nodded.

"Maybe too much Pepsi. Kids can pass out from that, too," the teacher mocked, fiddling with a pen on his desk.

Alan shot him a sharp look, preparing a cutting comeback.

Just then, the classroom door opened. The psychologist—the cruel man who had harmed Sara—entered.

Sara swallowed nervously and glanced at Oliver. The boy closed his eyes briefly, as if bracing himself.

The psychologist surveyed the students silently, then approached the teacher and whispered something. The teacher smiled crookedly.

His gaze then landed on one desk in particular. Sara expected him to say her name, but instead…

"Oliver, you were supposed to report to me. I guess you forgot," the psychologist said coldly.

Sara looked at Oliver, noticing his body tense. He clenched his fists beneath the desk and pushed back his chair, preparing to stand.

Suddenly, the principal entered the classroom, accompanied by a visitor—an elderly man, clearly in his eighties.

The principal spoke casually, "So this is where math classes are held."

The old man with a stern face nodded, glancing around at the students without a single smile.

His gaze settled on Alan, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Alan frowned, noticing the old man staring at him.

The elderly visitor stepped closer to Alan as the whole class watched in silence.

"So it's you…" the old man muttered under his breath, squinting at Alan.