Page 85 of Exile

I jump as another random scream fills the room. There's the sound of clattering food utensils as people hastily glance around to locate the source of the noise, before the chorus of echoing screams start.

One after the other. Again.

It's been this way all day. I'm starting to think we underestimated the situation. Perhaps we weren't prepared at all.

Slowly, it seems, the more the news sinks in about the truth behind Lilydale, the more people are processing it. Except… by processing it, I mean badly.

Someone stands up at their table, pointing toward a guard and hurling jumbled up words.

"Fuck," I hiss, sending Damon a panicky look. "It's happening again. What do we do?"

He drops his head and starts fiddling with something under the table. "I'll let Christopher know."

"The guards are moving in," Grey remarks.

"Should we do something?" I ask urgently, gripping the table.

It's too late. The guards grab the girl, sending her even further into a state of panic.

Fuck—this is all our fault. We've caused mass fear and it's a domino effect. People are spiraling at concerning rates, making it obvious that the patients know something. Now that the boulder has started rolling down the hill, we can't stop it.

"Christopher will intervene," Damon says, but there's an edge of concern to his tone that has me worried.

Dr. Smith surely can't handle all of this. Patients are dropping and losing control more and more quickly, inundating the staff as they try to calm them. Everyone is nervous, and when two other unrelated people across the room suddenly start physically fighting, I recoil in my seat.

I clap my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the sounds of flesh being hit and accompanying screams. It's still too raw, too triggering.

And we did this.

"Hey," Theo murmurs, lightly gripping my wrist to pull it away from my ear. "Breathe."

"I hate this," I respond quietly.

He nods. "Look at me."

I do, his dark eyes capturing my attention and instantly starting to ease the sickening pull in my stomach.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Grey asks, leaning into me. "We can skip class after lunch if you need some quiet space."

Shaking my head, I offer a small smile. "I'm fine," I lie, dropping my shaky hands into my lap. "It's better we are there in case anything happens."

Grey looks like he wants to argue with me but just kisses my cheek while Theo rubs comforting circles on my wrist.

"Arthur is probably going to step in soon," Damon comments. "He'll want to gain the upper hand on the situation, particularly with the looming investigation."

"This is when they need to show up," I mumble. "To see the damage."

Damon sighs. "It could be weeks before they fully investigate. And likely, they'll start with the board and all the legal side. This," he motions to some more patients being dragged out of the hall. "Isn't concrete enough evidence to back our story."

"We can't just let this continue," I argue. "People are gettinghurt."

Grey rubs my arm. "I know, but this is still a damn sight better than having them downstairs. It's sad, but most people here are probably used to this on some level. They can survive it—they were unfortunately trained to do so."

"That's fucked up," I murmur dazed. Because it's the truth, isn't it? All the times my father laid hands on me. I learned to deal with the physical pain. In a twisting act of surprise, it was almost an escape from the mental anguish I dealt with. Scars fade and bruises heal, but mentally? You can't escape that pain. It lingers long after the physical touches are gone.

"There's the bell," Damon snaps with frustration. "Are you three going to be alright?"

It's nice that he's asking all of us when we all know he's aimed it at me. I nod, forcing a smile as I glance over at him. "We'll be fine. Let's go, Grey."