Chapter 30

The teenager leaned her elbows against the railing, staring absentmindedly at a single point.

She tried to piece everything together. Slowly, she recalled every moment when the ghost of her dead grandmother had haunted her. Only now was she beginning to realize that she had repeatedly faced a menacing entity that had impersonated her relative.

She didn't understand why. What was the reason this threatening spirit wanted the death of a teenager at all costs?

Sara wanted to uncover the mysteries of the building and solve the problems that surrounded the place. But there was too much darkness, and above all, the center was inhabited by people who only added to the troubles—and who wanted innocent teenagers dead.

"I get the impression that you're specifically avoiding me. Are you running away from me, Sara?"

She shuddered—not out of fear, but because of how their last conversation had gone. Alan had behaved despicably and made her cry.

He was right—she was avoiding him. But not because she was afraid of him, rather because of the conflicting feelings stirring inside her heart. Despite everything he had done, she still loved him, though at times hate flared when she recalled his recent behavior.

"I'm not running away from you. You were the one who told me to get out last time. You'd rather not see me again," she replied in a brittle voice, not taking her eyes off the gray wall.

"I didn't mean it," he snorted under his breath. "I was angry, so you shouldn't take it to heart."

The girl finally shifted her gaze to him, not believing what he had just said. He acted as if his earlier behavior had been nothing offensive.

"You mean I should just forget about it? Erase from my memory the moments when you threw food at me, made me starve, or eat leftovers off the floor because I'm 'shameless'?"

"Okay, I behaved immaturely, I admit it," he declared, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "But wouldn't you be furious if you were me? Wouldn't you have reacted somehow to let it out?" He stepped closer. "Sara, I saw with my own eyes how that bastard kissed you—and you did nothing to push him away. You weren't even angry. I got the impression you enjoyed it."

"So you got the wrong impression, because at that moment I was just surprised by his behavior," she defended herself.

"How would you act in my place? Tell me, please. Wouldn't you be furious?" he asked, not breaking eye contact.

"I don't know how I would act if I were you, Alan," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "But I certainly wouldn't hurt you in any way. I would stew all my anger inside me—that's just who I am."

She wanted to leave and go back to her room, but he wouldn't let her, grabbing her hand and holding her close.

"We're not finished. You're staying here until we've explained everything to each other."

"Let me go, Alan," she grunted through clenched teeth, hoping he would listen. But the boy wasn't about to release her.

"Let's talk honestly. I've noticed lately you've stopped being interested in me. You spend time with Oliver and keep secrets from me. Tell me—do you still care about me?" Sara closed her eyes at the question she couldn't answer.

She loved him. Despite how much he had changed, she still cared about Alan. But she couldn't say it to his face—she wanted him to suffer at least a little. She wasn't going to forgive him so easily. First, she wanted to see the old Alan—the boy she had fallen in love with, not the man who increasingly resembled the General.

She wanted to give him time to think, to understand his mistakes before he could get close to her again.

"Why don't you answer?"

"Because I'm not in the mood," she said coldly and hissed in pain as he jerked her around.

She stood in front of him and looked into his face, pain in her eyes.

"Why can't you tell me the truth?"

"Give me a break!" she suddenly screamed, losing control. It overwhelmed her—she was sick of living in this cruel place. "I wish you were the least of my problems, but you're not. Why?" Her voice broke, but she stared him down. "Why do you add to my pain when I have so many worries already?"

He tried to embrace her, but she resisted, pounding his chest with her fists. "Why have you become such an asshole?"

When she lunged, her strength quickly gave out, and the boy took advantage, pulling her into his arms and letting her cry. Sara buried her face in his shirt, inhaling the scent of her favorite perfume.

She missed it so much...

She missed Alan—once her angel. She missed the time when she thought of him as walking perfection—an ideal who would never let her get hurt. And now? He alone added to her pain.

"I don't trust you, Alan," she whispered, uncertain but unwilling to suppress her feelings any longer. She needed to know the truth, to confront the awful feelings inside her, and to make him finally see and understand his past mistakes.

The blond man pushed her away gently, grabbed her shoulders, and looked carefully at her sad face.

"Why did you say that? What do you mean you don't trust me?" Panic flickered in his eyes.

"At this point, I don't trust you—and I have my reasons."

"Reasons?" he repeated, disbelief in his voice. "What are you talking about, Sara?"

"Then tell me you're not working with the General. Say it while looking me in the eye, and maybe I'll believe you," she challenged him.

Her words were brave. She didn't look like the frightened girl she usually was.

"I'm not working with the General," he said loudly, locking eyes with her. He didn't look away or avoid her gaze. He looked at her with the certainty of someone telling the truth.

She fluttered her eyelids, caught off guard by his answer. She had expected him to confess the truth—that he was cooperating with the General—but he simply denied it. He did so so convincingly that she couldn't bring herself to suspect him of lying. She couldn't tell if he was just a good actor or if he was telling the truth and her suspicions were exaggerated.

At that moment, she felt lost.

"I think this is the right time for me to go back to my room." She slowly backed away, but saw Alan shake his head. He rubbed his brow with his hand, clearly annoyed by her behavior.

"Are you going to run away again? Sara, this isn't funny anymore," he said, leaning against the railing.

"We'll talk another time. This isn't the right moment."

"But you know you can't get away from me anyway, right?" She stopped and gave him a puzzled look. "You can run, but I'll always find you," he said, heading toward the stairs. "See you later."

The teenager leaned her back against the wall, taking a deep breath to calm the nerves that had taken over her body.

How had it come to this? When did it get to the point that she didn't feel at ease around the boy who meant so much to her? What was happening to her? Should she blame herself, or Alan, who had recently started acting so disturbingly?

"I guess Oliver picked the wrong girl," she said, lifting her face to Eric, who emerged from the shadows. "But love doesn't decide, because I could say the same about you and the guy who just left."

He ran his fingers through his black hair and lazily approached Sara.

"Why are you here? Have you been eavesdropping? Shouldn't you be stuck with the psychologist?"

"Don't dodge the subject." She raised an eyebrow, measuring him with a sharp gaze. "Oliver's been through enough. He went through hell as a child, and it might hit him twice as hard now that the memories are coming back," Eric said, crouching next to her. He patted the floor beside him, signaling for her to sit.

She obeyed, hoping Eric would shed light on the mystery surrounding her friend.

"It would've been better if he'd grown up with those memories, but it was all so traumatic that he erased it himself. He was too weak to bear it."

"Can you tell me more about his childhood?"

Eric rubbed his face and shook his head.

"Sorry, but I can't. I think the psychologist made a mistake by revealing anything to him about the past. It would've been better if Oliver had never remembered."

"Is it really that... frightening?"

"That word's too small to describe what he saw. He witnessed hell. And it left a scar on his soul." Eric's voice was tight, and Sara got the impression he was holding back tears. Could he have witnessed the event that haunted Oliver?

"Your words make me shudder. So what is the story you don't want to tell me?"

"Believe me, this center is a paradise compared to where I used to live," Eric said, his eyes lighting up unexpectedly as he spotted Laura. The girl peeked through a crack in the door to check the hallway.

"This place really is a paradise. And this angel here is my favorite," he added, standing up.

Sara panicked when Eric headed toward the door. He was fast, and with his athletic build, he easily burst inside. Laura screamed like she had just seen a psychopath worthy of the General's reputation.

Sara smiled quietly and followed inside, watching as her roommate jumped into bed and carefully pulled the quilt over herself.

"Quick to invite me into your little kingdom? Isn't it a bit soon?" Eric joked, slipping off his shoes. Laura's eyes widened, both horrified and confused by his behavior.

No peer had ever managed to frighten Laura like this. Eric was the first boy to do it.

"Sara, get him away from me!" Laura shouted, pointing at the amused Eric. "This guy's a total lunatic! Look what he's doing!"

Sara watched as he pulled off his shirt. She wasn't the only one enchanted by the sight of his muscular torso; Laura blinked in awe. But the moment shattered when Eric jumped on top of her.

Laura's scream was so loud it could probably be heard throughout the entire building.

His hands and legs pinned her down beneath the bedclothes. She screamed tearfully for Sara's help, but it was so funny that Sara couldn't hold back her laughter.

"Don't pretend you don't like it—you did the same to Matthew before," Oliver said, appearing behind his friend. "Now you've got your male reflection. How does it feel to be harassed?"

"Oliver, are you starting to be mean to her again?" Sara looked at him with mock indignation, but he ignored her.

"Are you okay? Feeling alright?" he asked Laura, his gaze softening.

"Get off me, you perverted beast!" Laura tried to push Eric off, but he was stubborn.

"I like that. Keep struggling, battle girl."

"I'm fine," Sara said with a pale smile, thinking back on last night.

Eric's face was uncomfortably close to Laura's, and his weight made her numb.

"Please, get off me, or I'll never get out of bed again."

"But you're pretty," he said with a killer smile, surprising her with a kiss on the forehead. He slid off, thinking he'd had enough fun. But Laura didn't move. Her murderous glare warned the brunette that she was seriously in trouble.

"You're already dead," she hissed through clenched teeth.

*

"Don't you think the General has been silent for too long? He's too quiet, and I don't like that," Sara said.

Oliver rolled onto his side and fixed his eyes on the girl lying next to him. Sara relaxed on the bed, and he settled beside her.

"I think the psychologist has a lot to do with why the General is calm for now," Oliver said. "He's a smart man—he knows exactly how to handle him."

Sara looked at her friend, surprised that he spoke so kindly about the psychologist for once.

"Why didn't you tell me you were working with him?" she asked.

"Because I knew you'd find out in due time—just not from me," he said, making her laugh quietly.

"So… what's the answer?" she pressed.

"Simply put: the answer," he replied enigmatically.

Sara sighed and turned to face Oliver. He swallowed nervously; her lips were much too close.

"You know what puzzles me?" she said, playing with a strand of hair, twirling it around her finger.

"What?" Oliver asked, watching her carefully.

"That just a moment ago it was morning, and now it's night." Oliver glanced around the room, confused, realizing she was right. Something was definitely wrong.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, it felt like waking from a dream. He heard the laughter of the girls sitting on the opposite bed.

Then he remembered he had been crashing at Sara's place because he hadn't slept a wink in two days.

"Sleeping Beauty is awake," Oliver forced a fake smile at Laura.

"Yeah, too bad no prince came to kiss me—it would've been more realistic," she teased, lazily getting up.

Oliver glanced at his watch—it read three o'clock.

"How long did I sleep?"

"Long enough to forget this nightmare of a place," Laura said, resting her hand on her roommate's shoulder. "But too short to truly wake up from it."

Oliver frowned, not understanding what she meant. He headed toward the door and was about to open it when Sara's voice stopped him.

"Don't. Don't leave here," she said nervously. "If you do, this door will open your mind—and the whole nightmare will come flooding back."

"Sara, you need a decent night's sleep. Both you and your friend do," Oliver said, ignoring her warning. He pressed the handle, but before leaving, he noticed Sara's hands clenched tightly into fists. He looked forward and saw a disturbing darkness lingering.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes, startled, looking around the room. Sara leaned over him, scanning him with a caring gaze.

"Are you okay, Oliver?" she asked as he sat up. "You fell asleep in my room. I went out to get something to eat, and when I came back, you were tense in your sleep—almost numb—and your hands were clenched into fists. I got scared."

"I'm fine. Just a strange dream, that's all," he said, shrugging.

"You should eat something."

"I will. See you later," he said, smiling at her. He turned to leave but froze, his hand trembling on the door handle.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sara asked, noticing the tremor.

"In the best possible way," he said, taking a deep breath. He cracked the door open, saw everything was fine, and stepped out into the hallway to head to the cafeteria as fast as he could.

He told himself it was just hunger.