Chapter Twenty-Two

Raven

I sit in the main hall of the top floor, my head low. My freshly shaven scalp is hidden beneath the oversized hood of my gray sweatshirt. The room hums with low, disjointed noises—shuffling feet, quiet muttering, the occasional cough or cry. My gaze is locked on the bowl of plain porridge in front of me, the consistency reminding me of glue. My stomach churns at the sight of it, a weak growl echoing my disgust. With a frustrated shove, I slide the bowl away.

Suddenly, the chair beside me scrapes loudly across the floor. My body stiffens as someone plops down next to me, entirely uninvited. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her—a woman about my age, radiating energy that feels wildly out of place here.

“Hey!” she chirps brightly, leaning closer to try to catch my gaze. Her voice is cheerful, unnervingly so, completely and annoying opposite to the sombre, drug-laden atmosphere that smothers this place.

I turn my face away, pulling the hood lower. I don’t have the energy to talk to anyone, let alone someone who seems this unhinged. I’d normally have patience and care, but not when I’m in this predicament and somehow a patient myself.

The minutes drag like hours in this place. My head dips forward for a moment, my heavy-lidded eyes threatening to close entirely. The drugs still course through me, dulling my senses, making every thought feel like wading through quicksand.

When I finally lift my head again, I glance behind me, scanning the room. It’s a grim, surreal scene. Patients shuffle aimlessly, some mumbling confusedly to themselves. Others sit in corners, their hands clawing at their skin or twitching uncontrollably. A few remain utterly still, their empty eyes locked on some unseen horror.

“I don’t belong here,” I murmur, repeating the mantra like a lifeline. This isn’t who I am. I’m not what they’re trying to make me believe. I try to remind myself of Ty, of how he fought for his freedom. If he could do it, maybe I can too. Maybe, if I play along.

“I haven’t seen you before,” the woman beside me interrupts my spiraling thoughts. “When did you come in?” Her tone is light, like we’re sitting in a coffee shop instead of this fucking hell.

I sigh, pulling my sleeves further down over my arms, hiding the bruises. “I think… two days ago,” I say flatly, my voice devoid of emotion.

“Ahhh, they shocked you, huh?” she whispers giddily, as if we’re sharing some dark joke.

My head snaps to hers, my eyes narrowing slightly. For the first time, I take her in properly. Long black hair spills straight down her front, reaching her hips. She has a hood too, shading her sharp face and mischievous brown eyes. Despite the chaos around her, she looks oddly beautiful.

“They’ll do that a few times, you know,” she says with a sly smile, leaning closer as if we’re allies. “Trying to erase your memory. What did you do wrong?”

“I shouldn’t be here,” I reply evenly before I sigh, moving my eyes away.

She nods, her grin widening like I’ve just told her the punchline to some joke. “Me too,” she giggles, a strange sound that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

She doesn’t move, just keeps sitting there, her eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

I blink at her, trying to process her unsettling combine of detachment and bizarre cheerfulness. “How long have you been in here? And what have you done?”

She lifts her shoulders in a careless shrug. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. Dr Moss tells me it’s better that way. If I don’t remember my past, I can move on and be happy.”

My brows furrow. “What?”

Her voice takes on a singsong quality as she explains, “Everyone who comes in here goes through the same routine. Drugs, shock therapy, the truth serum...”

“Truth serum?” I repeat, my stomach twisting.

“Yeah…” Her expression shifts, her lips curving upward again like it’s some funny little secret. “It’s strange. Some people here say it’s like being drunk while someone whispers lies in your ear over and over until you start believing them. That’s what Joey said… before he made it down to the second floor.”

My head pounds as the information sinks in. “Why the fuck would they do this to people? Don’t you know these methods are illegal now?”

Her eyes widen like I just told her the funniest joke in the world. “They are? How funny!” She giggles, a sound so discordant with reality that it grates against my ears.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I’m too exhausted to try to sympathize with her or anyone else here right now. Somehow, I’ve become a fucking patient myself.

“So why are you still on this floor?” I ask, trying to focus.

She glances around the room with the same detached gaze before shrugging again. “Dr Moss said I’ll be moving down soon.”

I nod absently, my mind spinning in an increasingly blurry mess of fear and anger. “Do you know how to get out of here?”

She tilts her head to the side, blinking at me rapidly like a bird trying to understand. “You want to escape?”

“Of course, I want to fucking escape,” I snap. “Who the fuck wouldn’t?”

Her shoulders straighten, her cheerful facade fading slightly as my tone registers. “Well, I’m not sure. We’re not allowed out much, and the only time I’ve seen outside was during an alarm drill.”

My gaze flickers across the room, searching for anything resembling a fire alarm or an exit.

“Oh, you won’t find one in here,” she says nonchalantly, leaning in as though sharing another secret. “They’re in the hallways, but they’re locked with fobs.”

I sag, my shoulders heavy with exhaustion and hopelessness. Running my hands over my face, I take a deep breath to steady myself.

“Tell me,” I say after a moment, “what kind of people come here? Any more young people?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies lightly. “Kids come in here frequently. Some stay, some go. Right now, there aren’t any.”

My pulse quickens. “Why? Do they go through the same ‘therapy’ as everyone else?”

She nods, her face going blank, her gaze unfocused. “Yes, they do. Sometimes they’re sent here by their parents to be… cured. Or so I’ve heard.”

Her words tighten the coil of dread in my chest. The puzzle pieces fall into place, one by one, forming a picture that makes my blood boil. Sacred Heights isn’t just some forgotten asylum—it’s part of the system. It explains everything. Why they took Ty when he was thirteen. Why they’ve taken me now. They want to erase us. To stop us from speaking.

This is about control. About secrets.

“Dr Moss doesn’t like it when people aren’t cured,” the girl says suddenly, her voice faint, as if speaking from another plane. “When that happens, he tries harder. And it hurts.”

I lean in, my breath hitching as her focus snaps back to me. “Has anyone ever pretended to be cured… and he’s found out?”

Her face lights up in a chilling smile before falling flat again, almost robotic. “Oh yes. That makes him very, very angry.”

A chill runs down my spine, my skin prickling. My mind races. Dr Moss knows. He knows what Ty’s been doing. Letting him out wasn’t a mistake—it was a test, a trap to see if he’d slip. This isn’t about rehabilitation.

It’s a fucking game.

“Has there been any riots in here?” I whisper, my eyes wide as I take a quick glance behind me.

“Not often, but I’ve seen a few.”

My eyes snap to hers. “What happens?”

A giggle escapes her lips, almost like she’s remembering something darkly amusing. “Well, once Joanie shouted at the top of her lungs that they’re trying to kill us, and the place went crazy. Staff were attacked, but they overpowered us.”

I just stare at her, a sick feeling twisting in my stomach. I drop my head with a sigh, trying to process it all.

“I’ve heard there’s a way out.” She suddenly says and my attention darts to her.

My heartbeat picks up as I lean in slightly. “Where?”

She leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve heard there’s a door at the back of the kitchen on the lowest floor. It’s supposed to be an escape route, but of course, it’s useless with all the security here.”

I raise an eyebrow, the gears in my mind already turning. “Not everything is impossible if someone here isn’t out of their mind.”

Her eyes widen with excitement, and for a brief moment, I see something dangerous behind her unhinged smile. “Can I help?”

I lean closer, lowering my voice to a near whisper, my eyes scanning the room for any prying eyes or listening ears. “If you’re serious about helping, then I need you to focus. No giggling, no distractions. Got it?”

Her expression shifts, the usual unhinged giddiness melting into something sharper. She nods eagerly, her excitement now toughened with a hint of seriousness.

“You said there’s a door in the kitchen on the lowest floor. Tell me everything you know about it.”

“It’s hidden, tucked behind a storage rack.”

“Good,” I mutter, already planning. “And what happens during those riots you mentioned? When things get out of control, how do the staff respond?”

Her lips curl into a sly grin, and she leans even closer. “When the patients riot, the staff panic. They go all in, trying to lock down the floor and subdue the chaos. It’s all hands-on deck for wherever the trouble is.”

Containment—exactly what I need.

I nod, my mind racing. “Alright, here’s the plan. We’re going to start something. Something big enough to pull every single staff member to the main floor. While they’re scrambling to contain it, I’m going to get a keycard for the doors, and we’ll make it downstairs to the kitchen.”

“You’re going to start a riot?”

I smirk faintly. “Not just me. We’re going to start a riot. And we’re going to make it count.”

For a moment, she stares at me, the weight of my words settling in. Then, her lips twitch with a small, devilish smile.