Chapter 1
Evelyn didn't mind the concrete walls. Or the shackles on her feet. Or the needle holes in her arms. These were things one gets used to over time. What she dearly wished for was the abundance of color and light.
The walls of the empty room had always pressed in with their lifeless grey. The only splash of color came from the pile of worn books in the corner with torn spines and glittering trinkets that looked too cheerful against the gloom. Their brightness felt mocking, like confetti scattered over a grave.
Her eyes could see well in the dark. Tracing the outlines of the bolted door, the rusted drain in the center, and the crack in the ceiling where water sometimes whispered through. But every time the men in white opened the door to bring her out for checkups, she'd collect the light from the doorway into her memory, storing it like stolen sugar she could taste later.
Blinking away the haze clouding her vision, Evelyn forced herself to sit upright. She used to question why she needed to be knocked out for and after checkups but since no one answered like always, she stopped asking. She learned a long time ago it's better to stay quiet than make them angrier than they already were. Hence, bottling things up became an art she mastered.
The feeling of weakness in her body wasn't unusual. They said it's what everyone goes through. The words had long since lost their meaning, stripped of comfort and softened by repetition. But it also meant someone would be bringing her a hearty meal right about now. She focused on the lunch as she shut the doors to the noises in her head. There was no need to listen. Thinking too much only made the walls start to close in again.
A green hardcover book lay next to her. A gift from him, just like he promised. With a smile, she flipped it open, stopping at a page where a girl with beautiful golden hair smiled back at her. Similar to all the other attractive ones.
Evelyn pushed her own unruly auburn strand from her face as she stared in envy. Their round ears were unlike hers, which were pointed and unnatural. Even their clothes were pretty and clean instead of worn and dark. They had natural smiles that, no matter how hard she tried to imitate, never looked genuine enough.
She was always different. Unsure if that was a gift. Or a curse.
The shackles on her ankles dragged across the floor as she crawled to the corner towards a stack of books. She nudged them aside, revealing a tiny hole in the wall. A hidden passage between her loneliness and someone else's.
"We have a new story today." She called out, never getting used to how strange it felt hearing her own voice after hours of silence. She never expected an answer. Just the usual groaning and moaning noises of her neighbor who can't speak. She had long since decided that his silence when she read was a kind of consent, maybe even appreciation. If he didn't like it, surely he would have stopped her by now.
But today, there was no groan. No rasping whisper of breath dragging through the darkness.
"Hello?" She lowered her face, listening closely.
"Who the heck is this?"
The deep voice felt like a hammer breaking her into many pieces with one hit. Her hands dropped the book like they had forgotten how to work. Just like the rest of her as she gaped at the hole.
This was someone different. This was not the neighbor she had read to before. Who was there before her checkup today. Something must have happened to him.
"Who are you? And… what happened to the man who was here before?" she asked carefully, hearing the shackles on the other side move closer.
"I don't know. Who are you?" The boy asked. He sounded young. About her age.
"Evelyn. Nice to meet you." she said politely. Remembering to always smile no matter who was looking. Especially when no one was looking. A book said it released happy chemicals in the brain. Those were the only chemicals she wanted flowing in her body. "I...know moving to a new room can be overwhelming but it'll be alright."
A giddiness bubbled up inside her at the prospect of someone new to talk to. Other than herself and the good man who comes once a week with a present, she never had anyone else. The thought of having a friend made her feel weightless like a feather.
"Are you deranged?" he asked bitterly.
...Or probably not. If there's one thing Evelyn can't stand, it's rudeness. She already got enough of that from everyone.
Just then, the lock to her door scraped and groaned, causing her to quickly hide the hole with the stack of books. The door swings open and golden light bleeds across the floor, banishing shadows. For a moment, she sat transfixed. It was the kind of light she feared she might forget if it didn't return again.
A tall figure stepped into the doorway. He wore the familiar white uniform with a small wolf's head embroidered at the top and a mask, concealing everything but his gentle blue eyes. The heavy tray he carried filled the air with a fragrance so rich her stomach clenched in longing. Roasted chicken, warm buttered bread, and a bowl of thick stew with the tang of herbs. Even sliced fruit.
"How are you feeling today?" He sat the tray in front of her. Her eyes devoured the meal, almost making her forget that tomorrow the usual slop will return.
"Good." she answered softly.
"That's great to hear. Did you like the gift?" he asked, eyeing the book.
"Yes, thank you." Evelyn clutched it as if the paper and ink were worth more than the food. He leaned down slightly, hand patting the top of her head.
Her parents died when she was little. She had faint memories of her mother but her father had died before she was born. She didn't know what father's love was like. But she hoped it was similar to this. Maybe fathers brought gifts. Maybe they asked how you were, even if the answer didn't matter. Maybe they touched your head in ways that weren't meant to hurt or restrain.
He then rose without another word, the card in his pocket flashing white as he moved to the door. Silence pressed in once the iron slammed shut and the lock snapped into place.
"Evelyn! Come here." The boy called her. She shuffled toward the hole, her shackled ankles scraping against the floor.
"That man… he brings you gifts?… does he come near you?" He asks urgently.
She blinked, surprised by the sudden intensity. "Yes?"
The boy lets out a low, frustrated groan. "None of these humans ever get close to any of us." The metallic scrape of his chains punctuating each word. "Do you know what you should do?"
She tried to ignore the unease growing inside her. "Be… grateful for special treatment?"
"No!" he barked, and she wondered if his voice alone would be enough to break the wall. "Kill him. Get the card. Get us out of here!"
