Page 55 of I Will Mend You
“Good work, but we’re going in the opposite direction.”
“What?”
Footsteps thunder overhead, making me stiffen. Panic seizes my chest in a grip so punishing that I wince.
“There’s an autopsy room through that door.” Xero flicks his head to the side. “That’s where you’ll find sharp objects.”
We should be going out toward the exit, not venturing deeper into this derelict nightmare. Before I can even protest, Xero grabs my arm and drags me down the corridor, away from my last chance of freedom.
I would scream, but that would only alert the people upstairs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss.
“You’re half-naked, barefoot, and unarmed. If you go out there, it’s only a matter of minutes before you get caught. A weapon will increase your chances of survival.”
“How do you know we’re even going in the right direction?” I whisper.
“What do you think?”
I can consider the implications of his knowledge of the hospital’s layout another time. At the end of the hallway, we reach another heavy door. I push it open, emerging into another vacant corridor that runs the entire length of the building.
It’s darker here, the natural light too feeble to penetrate the thicker layers of grime on these lower-level windows. The air is chillier, carrying with it a dampness that seeps through the straitjacket and into my bones.
Shivers seize my skeleton. I want to duck back into the safety of the stairwell, but footsteps echo from beyond the doors. Either it’s another hallucination or they’ve already found out I’ve escaped.
Up ahead and to my left stands another set of double doors leading into a room with tiled floors. How do I know that? Every instinct screams at me not to enter. That’s where people go in and never return.
“Move.” Xero jogs straight ahead and disappears into the room.
Terror claws at my chest, rooting me to the spot. I follow him, terrified of the rumbling noises and the prospect of being left alone.
Swallowing a lump of dread, I step into a room with red-tiled floors and steel furniture. The once-white walls, now green with water damage and moss, resemble one of the upstairs sets.
Xero stands at a set of drawers, his features held in a hard mask. “This is where they keep the instruments. See if you can find a scalpel.”
I walk toward him on trembling legs, my gaze darting toward an autopsy table covered in watermarks and rust. Flashbacks slam through my consciousness all at once—a body sprawled on the table, a man in a white coat and mask, that red-haired doctor telling me this is what happens to girls who don’t behave.
Then there’s the blood.
“Amethyst, look at me,” Xero barks.
His voice snaps me back to the present. Blinking away the images, I rush across the tiled floor toward him, ignoring the way my heart wants to crawl out of my throat.
“Find a scalpel. Now,” he commands.
I grab the nearest drawer, which opens with a rusty creak. In one are strange-looking saws arranged like kitchen utensils. Another contains hammers, chisels, and something that resembles a pick.
My insides roil, and what’s left of the oatmeal in my stomach turns to stone. When I finally find the drawer containing knives and scalpels, I grab a handful.
“What now?” I ask.
“We take another exit,” Xero says, “But first, we hide.”
I whirl around, finding him jogging toward another doorway. Not wanting to be left behind, I sprint after him, clutching the scalpels.
The next room is even wider than the first, lined with stainless steel compartments resembling supermarket freezers. In its center stands a tilted table with two sets of overhead surgical lights descending from the ceiling. Beneath the table, the floor is marred by dried blood.
This is insane. This is gruesome. This is a hospital of horrors. My mind conjures memories of bodies dissected and discarded. Shaking off those visions, I follow Xero into a long corridor lined with gurneys.