Thomas is the last one to join them for lunch. There is an instant shift in his attitude the moment he sees his friends: one moment he is walking slowly, hands in his pockets, a neutral – almost bored – expression on his face, and the next he was smiling, body language much more open, joining the table at a faster pace.

“How’s the food?” he asks, sitting, looking at his plate, ignoring the group of adults watching them from across the room.

“Shit,” Edwin replies.

“It’s not that bad,” Maya counters.

“Mmh. You’re always too nice, though,” Thomas estimates.

They talk a little bit about… nothing, really, just making small talk, and yet Dr. Stanford – and her colleagues, probably – can see some deep bond between them. Whatever happened to them brought them closer together and their exchange was light and happy.

She had to agree with her colleague’s earlier assessment: when you saw them like this, they did not look like three young people who had just gone through trauma. But then… why wouldn’t they talk about what had happened to them?

“You look tired,” Thomas notices, looking at Maya, sounding like a concerned older brother.

“I’m not sleeping too well.”

“Yeah. It sounds weird, here, doesn’t it?”

The hospital is located in a very quiet park. Does that mean that they spent time – or were kept – in a noisy location?

“It’s not that, it’s… I have nightmares,” she confesses, sounding almost ashamed.

Thomas and Edwin exchange a look, and the second boy says: “You know you’re safe here, right?”

Oh. Now that is interesting.

She shrugs. “There might be less danger, but there is also less safety…”

The two boys nod as if they agreed and Dr. Stanford wonders what she means by that. Is it because they have been separated? Does she find comfort in the group? Is being on her own somewhat triggering?

Dr. Katz might not be reaching the same conclusions, but from her note-taking, she is picking up the same clues.

“And what is your shrink saying about that?” Thomas asks, raising slightly his voice in what Dr. Stanford interprets as a sign of defiance.

“That talking about it would help.”

Edwin looks at her and asks: “And are you?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“You’re the one who opened your mouth when we came back.”

“I was a bit excited, I didn’t think.”

“I’m talking,” Thomas steps in before the other two can erupt into a proper argument.

“I heard,” Edwin replies. “I’ve been asked about your fairytale.”

“No fairy so far.”

“That’s actually not the definition of a fairytale.”

“Then they need to change the name.”

“And what’s happening in your story right now?”

“The main character just saw a squirrel.”

Maya frowns and looks at him like she has no idea what he is talking about. “You’re weird.”

“It was a very exciting step in that character’s journey.”

Edwin snorts and replies something Dr. Stanford doesn’t quite understand. Then Thomas speaks too and… they are not speaking English anymore. The three doctors ever so slightly lean forward, trying to take in the conversation, spot some words they would understand, try to determine which language they are speaking.

Dr. Stanfrd is an educated woman. She speaks English, Italian, German, Turkish, and has basics in a few Asian languages. This does not sound like anything she knows. Or, rather, it seems to have a little bit of everything.

She exchanges a look with her colleagues and they seem just as confused.

This is not particularly surprising in itself: twins can make up their own language growing up, and dialects turn into languages all the time. So although sixteen months might seem like a short time to develop an entire language, it is possible that the children might have had to develop a new way to communicate.

Why, though? As a defense mechanism? To stay busy? As a way to maintain their mental health?

Then Maya says something and they all slide back into English, discussing the park and how they occupy their days. The conversation seems… not forced, but not particularly genuine.

It is not the first time that the idea occurred to her, but Dr. Stanford is once more wondering if the group of teenagers stayed away because they had to or because they chose to. Something happened to them, that is undeniable, but… they also seem very laid back about it, and she does not understand their attitude.

It is getting harder not to be frustrated at this ‘hypothetical story’ that seems going nowhere.

Then Maya, who just finished her meal, pushes her plate away, takes her glass, pours some water on the table, puts her hands on each side of the little puddle, and starts whispering something.

Dr. Katz had mentioned that she had a weird lunchtime ritual but it is still unsettling to witness. Especially as the boys do not seem to find it strange but also do not join in. Is she… praying? Did they create their own religion as well as a new language?

“You do know they can’t hear you, right?” Thomas still interrupts her after a minute or two.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. Seriously, look around! Do you see them anywhere?” Is he talking about the still missing students? Someone else who would have been overseeing them and forced them to comply with this ritual? Someone else entirely?

“Let her do it if it makes her feel better.”

“It’s not helping.”

“Is anything helping? Is telling your little story cathartic?”

“A bit, yeah, actually.”

“Are you so desperate to be back that you have to recreate some twisted version of it in your head?”

“Because you don’t wish to know for sure what happened when—”

This was on the verge to become something good, to foster answers Dr. Stanford could ask about, whatever was about to come after the ‘when’ would have been telling, she can feel it. But right then, someone walks in through the maintenance door. It’s an old door that’s always squeaking in the most unpleasant way, no matter how many litters of WD40 the janitors pour on it, and it has been referred to as ‘the banshee door’ for quite a while now.

The sound is unpleasant, there is no doubt about it. But this is more than this to the kids. This sound is definitely triggering them. Maya drops under the table, Thomas turns around, his hand flying to the nape of his neck, and Edwin jumps up, his right hand grabbing his left pocket.

It takes them a couple of seconds to realize that nothing happened and Edwin helps Maya up while sharing a knowing look with Thomas. Then Edwin turns to the doctors and asks: “May we be excused now?”

Dr. Brett nods and they go back to their respective bedrooms.

What the hell just happened?