5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

L ayla walked quietly beside Dylan as he led her to the basement.

She didn't know what she had expected to feel once she saw Jackson again but it wasn't the pain that filled every part of her body. She was the one who had tried to leave, and she thought she had been ready to do that, but the reality was hitting her differently.

Jackson had rejected her, and her heart was broken.

And that was the most ridiculous thing she had felt to date. How was she supposed to live with all the contrasting feelings inside her on top of all her guilt? It was crushing down on her like a weight she would never be able to shed.

Dylan walked down the steps into the basement and she followed. Only when he reached the middle of the room did he stop and turn to her.

"I haven't put the light on," he stated with a frown.

She could see his face as clear as day, just as she had seen clearly during the attack. Now that Jackson had cast her aside, she had many questions to ask Dylan about what to expect if she got pregnant and had to stay with them for nine months. Was she now one of them?

But how was she supposed to trust a man who had openly admitted that he had intended to kill her instead of taking her to her sister?

"Sorry, my head is all over the place right now. I wasn't paying attention."

"Is that what it is?" Dylan said with a sigh as he walked back to switch the light on. It seemed he had something to say about that, too, but he had chosen not to question her further. "Watch your feet. You aren't wearing any shoes."

Instead of heading to the door across the room where the garage was, he turned to his left. She saw another door, and this one had a lock on the outside. Dylan pulled some keys out of his pocket and then went through several before he found the right one. The door was metal and rusty, and it opened with a loud squeak.

Even with her improved vision, she could barely see what was in the room. Dylan didn't move away from the doorway to allow her inside.

"I'm sorry," Dylan whispered. "All of this is my fault. People are dead because of me."

"No. This one is all on me," she answered with a sigh.

"I knew what the risks were. I knew this was going to happen," Dylan said as he turned to face her. "And I knew he'd get angry and possibly kill me. I did it anyway because I thought... I didn't realise he had become that strongly attached to you."

"So attached to me, he's thrown me into a dungeon."

"Believe it or not, this isn't our dungeon," Dylan said. He turned back to the room and put the light on. "He should have killed both of us, but you stopped him. The only way that would be possible is if you're... But that doesn't make sense."

He said that as if he was speaking to himself. What was he going to say?

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Dylan sighed and walked into the room. It was a long, dusty room with a small table and chair beside the door. Along one wall were four doors, also locked from the outside.

"I'll clean this up for you and bring fresh bedding and food," Dylan said without answering her question.

"You don't have to do that. That's what I do for a living; I can handle it. I'm sure many people need your help right now."

He walked to the furthest door and unlocked it. The light switch was outside the room, meaning they could make her sit in the dark all day if they wanted to. The room had no windows, and the only furniture was a narrow cot along one wall. The toilet was on the opposite side, and a sink was next to it, but there was no shower. It was how she imagined a jail cell to look like, and she couldn't imagine how much worse their actual dungeon looked.

"It's the least I can do, Layla. And Jackson sent you here, but I'm sure he'll still go crazy if you're not cared for."

"Why are you so sure about that?"

Dylan stopped talking and met her gaze.

"You know you've been talking to me about things I'm not supposed to know since we got down here. What's one more thing?" she pointed out.

"I'm not sure what's happening yet," Dylan answered, "but once I find out, I'm not sure I can tell you about it. I'll go and get—"

Dylan stopped mid-sentence as they all did when they did their telepathy thing.

"I have to go. I have to make sure the kids are okay for the night," he said as he turned away.

"Wait. The kids that made it inside the house... Are they okay?"

Dylan turned back to her with a thoughtful look. Had she done something wrong? Was she not supposed to know anything at all about what had happened?

"I've not really had a chance to speak to them because we have too many injured, but they are being looked after," he answered before finally walking out of the room.

The metal door creaked as it shut, and then the sound of the lock echoed in the small space. Moments later, another key being turned echoed. She was left in the middle of the room with nothing but her thoughts. The very thoughts she had been trying to escape from that had been hidden under the shock and guilt of what had happened. And what she had done.

She looked down at her hands. Though it had been hours since she had showered, she could still see the blood dripping from her fingers. She could still feel echoes of her anger as she had used her hands to do something she'd never imagined she would do. Something that had made her scared of Jackson when she realised it was his nature.

How could she live with herself now, even if she somehow left this place? She would never be whole again.

When those thoughts threatened to push her over the edge again, she took a deep breath and focused on the room. She would keep busy somehow, even if she had to clean over and over again. It was a temporary fix. Like putting a plaster on an infected wound. She would have to think about everything eventually. She would have to decide what she would do with her life.

But now, she only wanted to scrub and polish until her heart didn't hurt anymore. She stripped the cot of the dusty bedding and then ripped a few strips from one of the sheets. As she started to wipe, dust and scrub, she focused on the task at hand.

But that niggling thing in her head kept trying to bring everything back. She briefly wondered why that imaginary red wolf had said she would be safe with Jackson when she was stuck in the middle of some sort of war. The thing in the back of her mind made her think it was because she belonged with Jackson and would never be complete without him.

When she tried to think happy thoughts, like when she would see her sister again and return to her real life, the thing in her head told her this was her life now. Her world. There was no going back.

When she wondered how she could have so easily taken a life, the thing in her head told her it was because she was a monster, just like Jackson.

And the scary part? She could now hear those thoughts the same way she had heard the imaginary wolf. They were so loud. Maybe it was due to the trauma of what had happened.

There was a voice in her head.

And it was cursing her out for trying to leave Jackson in the first place.

Maybe she didn't have to worry about what would happen once she left this place. She would be sectioned until the doctors got the voices under control. The school counsellor had been right after all. She had schizophrenia, and it was time she got help.