My mind was racing. I found no will to argue, still stuck in a state of panic as he swiftly walks me into a small room containing a single cot to the left and a sink to the right. “Take a seat.” He finally spoke. I make no protest. Being stuck in a daze, gliding like a ghost and taking a seat on the wafer-thin foam of the bed. My hands feel like they’re humming, the vibrations beneath the skin refusing to stop, my thoughts unforming as I just sit there like an obedient dog.

“I don’t know whether you remember or not, but let’s start again.” He says, finding a stool from the corner of the room and sitting down. “My name is Patrick Neila. And you were in the wrong place, Alexandria.”

I raise a brow at him, finally finding my voice; It comes out hoarse and grainy, “Yeah, I’m supposed to be at home. Curfew’s coming up. Sorry, but we can’t extend our playdate.” Neila’s face remains still, unaffected by mere child’s play. I’ll wear him down, eventually.

“So you’re one of those.” He says. “What were you doing in that room? You were supposed to follow the guards.” His voice is cool and controlled. I find myself irritated at the absurdity. Why am I to blame? My thoughts suddenly becoming accessible again.

“Then you might want to tell them that,” I spat. “I did not choose to come here at any point. Why would you think that I would purposefully watch that vile display?” My words grew louder the more I spoke, and the more I spoke, the more I felt in control of myself.

He cuts me off. “That was science and engineering at its finest. Do you know how long it took to figure out the logistics of that machine, to build it in a basement and procure all the radioactive material? It is no small feet.”

I give him a deadpan look. “Where’s the part where I asked?”

Neila takes a long, deep breath. “I am on the brink of the greatest solution-“

“A time machine?” I interject, finding delight in his defensiveness. It gives me a real confidence boost. The words felt like a warm blanket wrapped around me.

“What? No! How is that a solution? It’s merely paradoxical, uncontrollable and damn near impossible.” He looks at me for an explanation. I smile sweetly and give the perfect retort.

“If you built a time machine, your parents can go back and fix their mistake.” I gesture with a slight raise of my shoulders, keeping my smile sweet as I tilt my head gently.

Neila’s face drops. “Their ‘mistake’? I am a ground-breaking scientist who owns six Nobel prizes, among other awards. I am the definition of a poster child! You insolent brat.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, furrowing my brows and pouting just a little.

“That’s alright, I understand you must be frustrated.” He relaxes his own shoulders and exhales for a few moments longer than normal. And so I continued;

“That your parents didn’t love you as a kid, you must not have gotten all the attention that you wanted, that you needed to seek validation in praise and awards.”

“Right, that’s it.” Neila shoots out of his chair, the legs screeching on the concrete floor. “You are going to sit here and think about what you’ve done!” He then turns on his heels and leaves the room. The door’s lock rang out loudly, declaring my inability to leave. The proverbial bars on the wall had just closed.

That’s how this whole thing started.

‘It’s been three years since we were taken and that boy’s face continues to haunt me. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one. It’s hard to sleep. But tonight will be the last night that I suffer that same image in the same way. And tomorrow, hopefully, we’ll be free of this place. I can’t wait to see Neila’s face behind bars-’

“Alex,” Sam interjects softly,

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, “I know. I’ll sleep now, it’s just been a while since I’ve had the energy to write.” Tucking my diary away in the small nook in between the cinder blocks, I settle into my tattered old sheets.

“No, it’s just. I’m not as smart as you think I am.”

“What are you on about?” I ask. “Is this about what Neila said earlier? Because you were right, it was written clearly on his face. I bet you anything you got every component of that serum correct. He just doesn’t want you taking credit.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s this plan.” She whispers. I could feel the creases forming on my forehead as my face contorts. “There are so many variables that haven’t been worked out" she continues, "I don’t know exactly how this will pan out. I mean, what about the upstairs? We only know the basement.”

“We’ll figure it out when we get there. That’s what we do. Find a solution.”

“I suppose.” She says in a low tone, I could just hear it in the dark, that uncertainty and it annoys me a little.

“We could stay if you want, but it’s not going to get easier. You remember what happened to Sofie when she took that test?” I say, squeezing my eyes shut at the memory, and immediately regretting every word I spoke, feeling a flutter in my chest. "It’s the test that I’m up for next."

“No. No, you’re right. I’m just scared, so unbelievably scared. I’m not like you. I can’t just crash into the unknown.” Her words were a flittered rush. I can sense the air of panic and I knew she was feeling guilty for this now and I want to take away that unfair blame that I had intentionally placed upon her. How can I fix this?

“I don’t crash. I glide flawlessly." I retort, as if the words had gracefully floated off in the distance somewhere and I snort at my own quip. "Besides, there’s no way of knowing if Neila’s telling the truth. We could survive that test and he’ll come up with more. He won’t let us go. We’re lab rats down here.”

“You’re right... I’m sorry.” Her voice breaks at the end, but it’s stronger now, more affirmative.

“I’m scared too.” I confess, “But we have each other... and Ruben. You’ll see, years from now, we’ll laugh about this moment, how we sneaked past Neila right under his nose.”

“‘I am a groundbreaking scientist! you can’t arrest me!’” she imitates. We both burst into fits of giggles and the vibe between us was just like it was before we came here. “I’d be quite the hit to his ego. He’ll be so mad, I bet he'd stick his pompose nose so sharply up in the air, he'll strain his own neck,” she added energetically. We both burst out laughing, and continued for several hours, with back and forth insults. I could tell she had no room for doubts now.

“Good. He can stay mad.” I laugh, “Night Sam.”

“Good night, Alex.”