Ella

I only just finished my breakfast and washed my face when noises behind me make me look around. Mr. Unknown is sliding some metal bars out of the ceiling.

What the hell is that for?

I didn’t even know they were there to begin with. Does my cage have them too?

I look up, but there’s nothing there. Odd.

But what’s even odder is that when I look at him again, he’s taking off his tank top.

And oh God … the muscles that appear from underneath still make me gulp.

He throws it on the floor and starts jumping up and down in his cage, waving his hands and legs while he’s at it. Jumping jacks? Really?

He keeps going until his body glistens and his breathing becomes hard and loud. Then he switches to the bars hanging from the ceiling, lifting himself up. He can do complete body pull-ups as if it’s a cake walk. And for some reason, I can’t stop staring.

That is, until he glances my way, and our eyes lock.

Embarrassed, I immediately grab my book and pretend to read. I know he knows I wasn’t. And I know he saw me looking.

From the corner of my eye, I see him grin briefly before returning to his pull-ups.

Only this time, he’s doing it with one hand.

Jesus Christ. He’s like a beast. An animal in human form.

His abs twitch with every pull-up, sweat dripping down his body, and his face is all scrunched up. I can honestly say it’s one of the most beastly things I’ve ever seen. Sexy, even. And somehow, I can’t stop staring.

Even when I’m pretending to read.

And when he looks at me again, my whole face turns red.

Shit.

I quickly change my position, hoping he didn’t notice, but of course, he did.

I can see his smug smile from where I’m sitting.

He enjoys putting on a show for me; I can tell. I wonder why he’s going through all this trouble, though. It can’t be all because of me.

After a while, he drops down from the bars, a resounding boom sounding from his feet as they crash into the concrete. Immediately, he drops down to the floor and starts doing push-ups. Hundreds. Maybe more. I’m not keeping count. But the most amazing part is that he’s doing more than half with just one hand, alternating both like he’s attempting to train to the max. As if he’s preparing for something. But for what?

When he catches me staring again, I quickly turn away and shake my head.

I’ve got to stop letting this man who’s obviously not in my reach distract me. Literally. A thick, impenetrable glass wall separates us, and nothing he does is going to change that.

I’ve already tried throwing everything at the glass, but to no avail.

He’s probably done the same thing loads of times. If it didn’t work for him, I don’t know why I thought it’d work for me.

Oh, well … guess we have nothing to do here to waste time except read books and work out like we’re in the Army. I can’t blame him.

I just hope the waiting ends someday, and that Graham will just tell us why we’re here because I can’t handle being here forever without knowing why.

I just need to know why. So I make a promise to myself right now that the next time I see him, I’m going to make him tell me.

The sweaty, pumped-up man next to me gets up from the floor and stands still in the middle of the room. When I look up, I notice he’s staring at me. And no matter how hard I stare back, he won’t stop. It’s the same as last time … only worse …

More … raw … and hungry.

And why do I get the feeling he’s undressing me with his eyes?

I swallow hard and return to my book, determined not to let his ample physique distract me from my objective … which is getting out of here.

With or without the unknown man.

* * *

Just as I’m about to fall asleep on my belly, my eyes spring open, and I look up. All visible lights have gone out. I push myself further under my blanket until only my eyes peek just above the pillow. I shiver, wondering what’s going on. I feel like anything could happen. The lights have never gone off.

What does it mean?

Is Graham gone?

Was there a power outage?

Or did he do this on purpose?

Noises from below us make me place my hand on the ground to feel the vibrations. Nothing penetrates the thick concrete, though. But now I know there’s not just earth underneath us. We must be up a floor or more—how many I don’t know—but I’m sure it’s not a basement.

The realization gives me a jolt of energy, an indescribable feeling of power. Why? Because I just discovered something Graham probably doesn’t want me to know. And it feels fantastic.

Even if it’s just a tiny bit of information, it’s enough to fuel the desire in me to discover more about this place. To learn the ins and outs. Because that is the only way to plan an escape.

Suddenly, the door on the other end of the room creaks and opens wide. I can barely tell what’s going on because it’s so dark, but I can definitely make out a figure … and a moving chair on wheels. And inside is another person.

Groans are audible.

I hold my breath as the wheelchair approaches, and I pretend to be asleep even though I’m still lurking underneath the blanket. As it’s rolled past me, I can clearly distinguish the shape inside … It’s a girl, judging from the long hair and voluptuous chest.

But before I have another chance to look, she’s rolled past my window and into the room behind the dark doors. Not long after, another door creaks open. It’s in the far corner of the room in the cell on the other side of the handsome stranger next to me.

He’s fast asleep, snoring on his bed, while I’m lying here with a pounding heart, wondering what’s going on.

The wheelchair is pushed into the cell, and the girl is taken out. Then the figure leaves with the wheelchair. I assume it’s Graham. It must be.

He rummages in his pocket, and I hear a clicking noise. The light turns back on. Then he exits the room with the wheelchair, leaving us all alone again.

I wait a few minutes to make sure he’s not coming back before I slowly slip out of my bed and walk up to the glass. Peering through, I can clearly see the woman lying on the bed in the far corner beyond the mysterious man’s cage.

Another captive.

Why is she suddenly here?

Did she come here after me or before me?

And what did he do to her to make her pass out?

Because she’s clearly not awake, judging from the way her face is smashed against the pillow. I wonder if he did the same to her as he did to me when he took me. Just thinking about the awful smell that was inside the cloth pushed against my mouth makes me sick.

But I don’t give into the sensations of wanting to hurl. Instead, I gently tap the glass, hoping to wake her up.

She groans and turns, and my heart does a flip-flop. However, she immediately drops back down onto the bed again, and I hear nothing.

Shit.

She must be completely wiped out.

But then another groan slips from her mouth.

Is she trying to wake up? Maybe she’s fighting the drugs.

I have to help her.

Without thinking, I start banging on the glass, hard.

So hard even my next-door neighbor wakes up. He groans loudly like a bear as he leans up and looks at me with furrowed brows. “Sleep,” he growls.

He’s never spoken more than two syllables to me, but I can tell he’s mad because I woke him up. He shouldn’t be. I need his help. So I point at the window behind him, desperately trying to get him to look.

When he finally does follow my finger, he just shrugs and turns around again.

My jaw drops.

What the …?

I knock on the glass again. He looks annoyed. “What?”

I point at the woman again and make an angry face.

“She’s sleeping.”

She’s not. She’s struggling. She needs help. Wake her up.

Of course, whenever I try to sign, he understands zero of what I’m trying to say.

Why is he completely not interested in the woman right beside him? She’s the first new thing that’s happened to us since I came here, and he seems totally oblivious to her presence. As if he doesn’t care. Or as if he doesn’t feel that it’s special.

But it is. It’s a person. Someone to talk to. Someone who could help me figure out what this place is, and what Graham wants with us. Someone who could help us get out.

But I’m tired of waiting until the stranger beside me does something, so instead, I bang on the glass harder. As hard as I can. I don’t care if it keeps him awake. This is too important. I need to know who this woman is. Why she’s here. If she knows more, anything, I just have to know.

I can’t sleep knowing she’s here. Not without having at least tried to wake her up and get her to talk to me.

But my wrists feel like they’re about to fall off, that’s how painful it is. And Mr. Unknown jumps up from the bed and pounds the glass near me once, his strike so hard that it makes me jump back.

“No …” he growls.

No? What the hell?

Why wouldn’t he want her to wake up? Is he insane?

I frown and make a face. Then I continue to knock anyway. I don’t care if he likes it or not, I’m not stopping until she’s awake.

However, the vents above me suddenly open wide, and a gas filters inside.

I cough, backing away from the glass, and try to escape the gas by rushing to a corner. I cover my mouth and nose with the bed sheets, but as more gas flows inside, it’s becoming harder to breathe.

Shit.

He’s drugging me again.

Mystery man beside me starts punching the glass out of nowhere. And not in an angry way, but as if he’s trying to actually break the glass to get to me.

“NO!” he yells loudly.

My vision is getting blurry as I sit down in the corner of my cell, covering my face with whatever I can find. But it isn’t enough.

I struggle to breathe.

A few seconds later, the lights go out.

* * *

Cage

“No!” I yell as he comes inside her cage and drags her into a wheelchair.

“Silence,” he barks at me.

I frown as he rolls her out of her prison. “Give her back.”

“Don’t you worry about her …” he says as he takes her out of the room and out of sight.

What is he going to do to her?

I don’t want her to get hurt, but I’m so damn scared he might do something to her. Especially after she made so much noise. He must’ve been angry with her. I just hope he won’t take his rage out on her.

The girl in the cage next to me groans, and her eyelids struggle to open. “Where …?”

“Cage,” I say.

She blinks a couple of times and then sighs. “Fuck …”

She sits up on the bed with her head still hanging low, and she scrunches up her face. “God, I feel fucked up.”

“It’s the drugs,” I say.

She nods and tries to get up. Her body is still weak, so she collapses on the floor. “Fuck!”

She swears a lot more than …

Just thinking about the girl makes me clutch my bed and make a fist with my hand. I wish I could get her back, but I can’t.

“Food?” she asks.

“In the box,” I reply.

She immediately gets up to grasp it before quickly sitting down on her bed. I can tell she doesn’t want to stay on her feet too long because she keeps pulling them back up on the bed.

She tears off the wrapper and munches on a sandwich, practically stuffing her face with it. “God, I can’t believe I could ever love a peanut butter and jelly sandwich this much.”

Only when she turns my way can I finally see what happened to her feet. They’re completely red and covered in sores.

“What happened?” I ask, getting closer to her side of the glass.

After swallowing the last bit of her meal, she takes in a deep breath. “Pain, that’s what happened.”

“How?”

She sighs. “I had to dance. Day and night. They wouldn’t let me stop.”

Dancing, a whole day long? I don’t even do my workouts for an entire day; I’d be too worn out. Yet she’s been up on her feet the entire time. No wonder she’s hesitant about using them.

Water fills her eyes, and she wipes them away with her thumb.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Don’t be,” she says. “It’s not your fault I’m in here.”

I swallow and look away, wondering what I can do to help. But that’s just the thing. I can’t do anything. I can only sit and wait out our time.

So I walk back to my bed and sit down to stare at the door he disappeared through with the girl.

A few minutes pass, and suddenly, a voice reminds me I’m not alone. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at the door,” I reply.

“What for?”

“Waiting for her.”

“Who?” The pitch of her voice changed, and I know exactly why.

She doesn’t know yet that we’re not alone anymore. “The new girl.”