“Room three,” Evan says as we stop in front of the door. It’s open an inch.
I haven’t been in this room before. Light. Room three. And room four, sleep deprivation. Those are the only rooms I’ve not been in. Oh, and obviously room zero.
Hazel hasn’t done a room once yet.
I guess I piss them off more than Hazel does. But they won’t drive a wedge between us, it isn’t Hazel’s fault.
“You’ve done this one?” I ask, squeezing Evan’s hand tighter. Somehow having another person with me is making me more nervous. Or perhaps that’s just the unknown. I don’t know what to expect in here.
Evan nods. “Too many times to count. We’ll be fine, okay?”
My heart is racing as I reply, “Okay.”
Taking the lead, Evan pushes the door open with his free hand and leads us into the room. There is nothing in here; it’s a white box. On the ceiling is one big light, like the whole thing is a light.
I lick my lips. While I don’t think bright lights will be the worst room, I’m not naive enough to think it’s going to be easy. I get headaches from being in the sun for too long, and I’m going to have to spend some time in this room with what I would imagine is super-strong lighting.
The door clicks locked behind us. Evan turns to face me. He’s calm, like he knows what’s coming. He does, and he’s survived this.
Though I can’t see how room five could ever get easier.
He takes my other hand and steps closer. “You can do this, Piper.”
“Don’t let go,” I whisper as the room is cloaked in darkness.
Gasping, I step closer to Evan.
“It’s okay. It’s always dark first. Close your eyes, Piper, and keep them shut.”
I don’t ask why I would need to close my eyes in a dark room, but I have a feeling that if I don’t do what said he says, I’ll regret it.
I blink my eyes and squeeze them shut. “Are your eyes closed, too?” I ask him.
“Yeah. Don’t open them.”
How bright can it get?
My heart hammers, and my breath is shallow.
“Calm down, Piper,” he soothes. “Breathe deeply.”
I take a deep breath and relax my grip on Evan’s hands as my lungs fill with oxygen.
“Good.” He lets go of my hands and wraps his arms around my back.
This is rather intimate, but he’s not doing it because he wants anything to happen between us. This is support. He’s doing everything he can to make this as easy on me as it can be. I really, really appreciate it. Being strong and upbeat all the time is exhausting; it’s nice to be taken care of the way we take care of Lucie and Hazel.
I hold on to Evan and press my face into his strong chest.
The light switches on with a loud thud and floods the room. It’s bright. It’s impossibly bright, and my eyes are closed and buried in Evan’s T-shirt.
“Evan,” I whisper. The light burns, my eyes sting, my skin prickles.
His body tenses, and he bows his head against my shoulder. “I know.” His fingers dig into my back. “Keep your eyes closed.”
I couldn’t open them if I wanted to. The light burns as it is.
“It’s too much,” I whimper. My throat is dry from the heat the light is giving off, my head pounding from the brightness.
Evan’s knees give out, and he takes me to the floor with him. We don’t let go of each other. I’m scared to move because I know it will only get worse if nothing is shielding my eyes.
They’ve cut the lights four times already today, and they’ve been doing it for days. Each time it comes back on, it’s like being hit by the sun.
“You’ve got this, Piper,” he whispers.
I don’t know how I would have done this alone. I thought it would be better than the noise and heat, but it’s not. It’s so much worse.
The lights go out again, and we’re cloaked in darkness. It offers only a small amount of comfort. The damage has been done; my head pounds so hard, it hurts to blink. I need some pills and water. Nothing else will help now.
“How long have we been in here?” I whisper.
“Hours,” he replies.
It feels like weeks.
“How long is it usually?” I ask as the light clicks. I hold my breath, but this time it doesn’t hurt. The light is dim, like it was when we first came in.
Evan looks up at the same time as I do, both of us squinting our eyes. “It’s over,” he says. “And that was about how long it lasts most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” I ask.
“Sometimes it’s longer,” he replies. “Don’t think of that now. Come on.”
Pushing to his feet, he offers me his hand.
I place my hand in his and rise to my feet. “Thank you,” I say. “I don’t think I would have been able to do that without you.”
“You would have. You know you’re strong, but I don’t think you know how strong. You’re going all the way, Piper.”
“All the way to what?”
The door clicks unlocked but Evan doesn’t move.
“The end of this.”
“We don’t know what the end is going to be.”
“No,” he says, brushing hair from my face, “but I know you’ll be there.” Dropping his arm, he takes a breath. “Let’s get back.”
We make the short walk back to our room, grabbing a bag of new clothes in the clothes room as we go. The heat from the light has made me a sweaty mess. I need aspirin, a shower, and to lie down.
Hazel, Priya, and Theo are sitting on the sofa when we get back. Where is Lucie? Sleeping, maybe.
“Are you two okay?” Hazel asks.
I nod and pain slices through my forehead. Damn, that hurts so much. “I need…”
“Sit down. I’ll take care of it,” Evan says.
“Hey, no, you sit, too.” Priya leaps to her feet. “You need a glass of water, right?”
“Thanks,” Evan replies and follows me to the sofa.
When my headache has ebbed a little, I’ll go for my shower.
“Was the camera on?” I ask.
Hazel nods. “You two were amazing, though. So strong.”
“What camera?” Evan asks.
“When Lucie and Piper went into room five, they showed the live feed in here and made us watch,” Hazel says quietly. With the constant threat of room zero looming over us, it’s understandable that we do what we’re told.
Evan shakes his head. “They really do that?”
“Yep,” I say, taking the glass of water from Priya with gratitude. “I love you,” I tell her.
Evan downs his pills, too, and lies back against the sofa, gripping his glass of water as if it’s his lifeline.
I know the feeling.
“Do you guys want anything to eat or are you going to bed early?” Theo asks. He avoids eye contact with me, preferring to look between me and Evan.
“I can’t eat a thing,” I say. “I’m going to shower and sleep.”
Evan nods. “Same. My head is killing me.”
“All right,” Theo mutters.
Things with Theo have gone from bad to worse. It started when I didn’t let him run, and Evan’s presence has only widened the distance between us.
I miss having him as a friend, but I’m not going to turn my back on anyone in here in order to do that. There can’t be any cliques in here. Everyone is equal; everyone gets the same treatment.
Evan insists I use the bathroom first, and I’m thankful, because I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake. I need to curl up in bed and close my eyes. I need this damn headache to go away.
Will there be any lingering effects from the extreme light exposure? I don’t know how long you have to be exposed for that to happen. We were in there for a couple of hours, and there were moments of complete darkness, too, which only made it worse when the lights turned back on.
I think I’ll be okay.
You have to be okay.
When I’m finished brushing my teeth, showering, and changing into the new clothes I brought back, I head straight to bed. No one stops me as I walk through the main room, understanding that I need to go to bed.
I’m not really feeling in a chatty mood.
Slipping into bed, I tug the quilt around my body and close my eyes. Sleep may not come quickly, but at least I can lie here in the dark and be still.
After about five minutes, or it could have been many more, I’ve lost the ability to count, Evan creeps into the room. I hear his footsteps getting louder, and then he climbs the ladder to the top of the bunk next to mine.
His head hits the pillow with a light thud, and he sighs quietly.
I wonder what he’s thinking? Was it easier or harder for him having me there? He’s done the room before but on his own. He took on the role of protector. Did that give him enough of a distraction?
“Evan?” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
I smile at the gentle tone in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Are you?”
“I guess. My head doesn’t feel good.”
“No, but it’ll go away.”
Evan lifts his arm, flopping it over his head and into my bunk. Biting my lip as my smile grows, I lift my arm up and grip his hand. That has to be uncomfortable for him, his arm resting on the wooden side of the bunk and bent back, but he doesn’t seem to care.
In fact, it only takes a few minutes before I hear his breathing getting heavier, and only a few minutes more until I follow.